#if you read this whole thing holy smokes thank you

[oliverreedmasterass]

Words: 7.6k

Warnings: smoking, sexual innuendos, some head trauma, cops, brief mention of v*mit, Led Zeppelin comparisons, Sam’s bare feet

Synopsis: Because I’m trying to not get my hopes up that we’ll get a second part to arguably the best video on the internet, this is how I’d imagine it would play out

Notes: An EXCEPTIONALLY LARGE thank you to @starcatcherkiszka, @jmkho, @writingcold​, @collecting-moons-downstairs​, and the anons for the submissions! Hopefully you (kinda) got your questions answered...

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The scene opens in an interrogation room that is empty, with the exception of a hooded figure in the corner. Chatter can just barely be heard beyond the large, metal door. The camera is steady. After a few beats, SAM enters the room, his head hung low and his arms in shackles. He shuffles over to the interrogation table and plops into the uncomfortable chair with a sigh, carefully removing his oversized sunglasses and tossing them to the side. He kicks his bare feet up onto the table, revealing a glimpse at his short shorts and dress shirt. He doesn’t seem to notice the hooded figure. Sam is wearing a fake mustache over his real facial hair. 

SAM: Whoo boy, whatta day. 

The door opens once more and DANNY enters, his hands also cuffed. He looks like he just came off the stage from one of their shows, wearing one of his sparkly tops, black pants, white sneakers, and stage makeup. 

DANNY: Hey, Sam. 

SAM: They got you too?

DANNY: We were brought here together. 

SAM: Come here, old pal, let me hug you. 

Danny scrunches his nose like that’s the last thing he wants Sam to do, but he cautiously approaches Sam’s side and lets Sam awkwardly lift his handcuffed hands over Danny’s head and past his shoulders to engulf him in a tight embrace. While this is happening, JOSH kicks the door back open with a loud shout and thunders into the room. Sam and Danny turn back and watch Josh step up to the interrogation table, putting his hands on his hips. Josh is wearing a spacesuit that was very obviously purchased from Party City. He removes his space helmet and poofs back up his curls. 

JOSH: Sorry folks, I was caught in the holding cell because my suit latched onto the prison bed. I got into a really invigorating conversation with a self-proclaimed pyromaniac about the burning of Notre Dame and managed to sneak a swig or two of gin from the police chief when he wasn’t looking. My head is spinning a little because I think the ABV was above 80% but that just means I can’t tell left from right, which is no matter since I normally can’t tell the difference anyways. 

SAM: Where are your handcuffs? 

Josh looks down at his hands, which are entirely freed. 

JOSH: I Houdini’d my way out of them. 

Josh scans around the room. 

JOSH: Is Jake here yet? 

SAM: Nope. 

DANNY: I haven’t seen him. 

JOSH: Huh. 

Josh turns in a circle looking for his twin, to no avail. The door opens again and the three men turn to see a detective enter the room. DETECTIVE ACE is a hard looking man who has obviously seen some shit over the years. He’s carrying a steaming cup of coffee and an especially delectable donut that Josh can’t help but lick his lips at. Detective Ace motions for them all to sit back at the table. Sam and Danny struggle to untangle themselves from their complicated hug. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Morning, gentlemen. Let me lay down some ground rules here: I’ve got a lot of questions that I’m gonna need you to answer. Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way, which I’m sure you understand, but I want you to know that we’ll all be better off if you answer openly and honestly so we can crack down on this. Capiche? 

Josh, Sam, and Danny all silently shrug. That seems to be enough for Detective Ace. He looks across the table at the three and then squints. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Isn’t there supposed to be another one of you? 

JOSH: He’ll be here, he’s usually late. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Where could he possibly be? We’ve been keeping you all in a holding cell for the past twelve hours. 

SAM: Jake’s never been on time in his life. We should get started. He’ll come when he comes. 

DETECTIVE ACE: I feel like I should be more concerned about that, but okay. Let’s get this thing going. 

JOSH: Yes, why don’t we have a ball, huh? Let’s have a ball. 

Sam reaches up and strokes his fake mustache, which Danny notices for the first time. Danny lets out a short choke and quickly holds his hands up to his mouth to suppress his laugh. Sam beams at Danny’s reaction. 

DETECTIVE ACE: First things first, do you prefer tea or coffee?

DANNY: How kind of you to offer. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Just answer the question, son. 

DANNY: Coffee. 

SAM: (leaning to whisper to Danny) Less talkie, more coffee. 

DANNY: (under breath) Don’t remind me. 

JOSH: I actually prefer to mix the two together to see how much caffeine I can fill into my fleshly form in one go. 

SAM: Caffeine gives me the shits. I prefer kombucha. 

JOSH: Dude, kombucha is tea. 

SAM: No way. 

DANNY: What did you think you were drinking? 

SAM: (whispering) Spicy water? 

Danny holds his head in his hands and shakes his head. Sam looks between Danny and Josh, his eyes wide. 

SAM: How do you both know what kombucha is? 

DANNY: Have you really never read the bottle? 

DETECTIVE ACE: (clears throat) Next question. This one is for Daniel: the chaos of the Kiszka brothers must get to you. Have you ever reached your limit? If so, what was the event that caused you to break? And finally, what was your retribution?

DANNY: Hmmm. 

JOSH: Don’t say anything too incriminating, Daniel. 

DANNY: I’ve definitely come close. Especially when we were younger, you know, in the garage band days, they would butt heads a lot. There were times when I was tempted to storm back to my house after hearing Jake and Josh argue for what felt like hours on end. But I don’t know, I’ve spent a lot of my life with them, I guess I’m kind of used to it. Even when they’re being absolute menaces out in public, it’s never made me break. 

SAM: What about Amsterdam? 

DANNY: Oh, wait, yeah, I did reach my breaking point in Amsterdam. 

DETECTIVE ACE: What happened in Amsterdam? 

Danny winces and looks at Sam and Josh to see if he should keep talking. Sam nods. Josh is too busy messing around with the straps on his spacesuit to notice Danny’s glance. 

DANNY: It was a few years ago. We were going to play at a festival, but before the gig we went to one of those, uh, coffee shops and got our fill, I guess you could say. Jake and Josh got pretty cocky after that and started to hound me about how I needed to put more force into my hi-hat or some shit like that, which I really didn’t want to hear. That was tearing me down, but then I turned around and saw that Sam was jumping into the canal, entirely clothed. After I ran down to the side of the canal to try and help Sam, Jake pushed me in as well. When I got out, I immediately told them I quit the band and stormed back to our hotel. 

SAM: He was on stage with us three hours later. 

DANNY: Yeah, so they really didn’t face too much retribution there. 

JOSH: We deserved it, though. Poor, poor Daniel. 

DETECTIVE ACE takes a sip from his coffee and then looks down at his notepad. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Okay, I need a statement on your friend, Oliver Reed. Is he really dead? 

The hooded figure, who has been standing in the corner entirely motionless, quickly stirs and then leaps forward with a loud “YAR!” making everyone in the room jump. The hooded figure tears off the cloak in an impressive swoop, revealing OLIVER REED with his beard longer than ever. 

OLIVER REED: OLIVER FFFFFUCKING REED LIVES IN THE SPIRITUAL REALM NOW, BUT HIS SOUL IS STILL ALIVE AND WELL. THE DEVIL HAS GRANTED ME AN HOUR ABOVE GROUND TO VISIT OLD FRIENDS, ENEMIES, AND LOVERS. 

SAM: Oh my god, Oliver Reed is alive! 

OLIVER REED: (growling) What did eye jus say, boy? Yew got no fffffucking ears on you? I’m fuckin dead, my bleeding ghost is here to tie up some loose ends. 

JOSH: How much time do you have left before the devil takes you back, Oliver? 

Oliver Reed grunts and reaches into his back pocket to study his phone. 

OLIVER REED: Six minutes, it looks like. 

DANNY: What were you doing in those other fifty-four minutes? 

Oliver Reed grabs a cigar and matches out of his vest pocket and lights it, taking a big puff. Then, he starts to laugh at first softly, and then louder and louder. 

DANNY: Nevermind, I don’t want to know. 

OLIVER REED: Yew know, I talk a lot with Ernest Hemmingway down under, he’s a class act, he is. He can nearly outdrink me. Nearly, though. Ay’ve still got ‘im there. One time we ‘ad a drink off with this shit the devil brews, it’s called a Soul Sucker, aye think. It’s straight shit and maybe a little motor oil. Well, I rolled me sleeves up, rubbed me hands together, and grabbed ‘at big ol’ bottle and chugged it like it was a glass o’ water. And Ernest told me, he said, ‘Oliver, boy, you need to slow down’ to which I said, ‘actually, when yew go too fast, don’t slow down, yer gonna crash.’ Ernest said that was a bloody brilliant quote, and he was going to add it to his new novel, about sexual pleasure and the majesty of the seed. 

SAM: Okay, thank you, Oliver. 

OLIVER REED: I’m not done yet. 

DANNY: (to Detective Ace) Please ask us another question before he starts talking again. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Oh, um (clears throat) Okay. Would you rather be locked in a room with one cockroach the size of a medium dog or 100 regular cockroaches? 

Oliver Reed pulls off his sunglasses and bends over to be at eye level with Detective Ace, who is still sitting at the interrogation table. Oliver’s eyes are piercing, and they are terrifying. Detective Ace recoils back in his seat a bit. 

OLIVER REED: Wot the bloody ‘ell kind of question is ‘at? Cockroaches? Cockroaches?! Well, aye know a thing or two about cocks and I know a thing or two about roaches - 

SAM: (cutting Oliver Reed off) Oh GOD. 

OLIVER REED: So aye guess ay’d ‘ave to say the giant cock would do fer me. I don’t think aye could wrap me head ‘round a hundred o’ those peckers. 

Sam slams his head into the interrogation table with a groan. Danny is quick to make sure that Sam didn’t give himself a concussion. 

DANNY: (to Sam) How many fingers am I holding up? 

OLIVER REED: HE’S HOLDIN’ THREE, AYE ‘AVEN’T HAD ‘AT MUCH TO DRINK YET, I CAN STILL SEE STRAIGHT. 

Danny: I wasn’t talking to you, Oliver. 

SAM: Three. 

Danny throws his hands in the air, giving up. Josh is silent, thinking especially hard about the cockroach question. 

JOSH: I think I would take one hundred small ones. 

OLIVER REED: Go and gettem, boy! That’s what Ernest says. If yew’ve got the stamina, by all means. 

JOSH: I think I could domesticate them and get them to follow me around. Think of how cool it would be to have a hundred cockroaches near you at all times. 

SAM: (peering up at Josh as his head still rests on the table) Literally no one would find that cool. Except you, apparently. 

JOSH: I’d give them all names and take care of them. 

DANNY: Well, that makes me feel bad. I was gonna say I’d take a big one because it would be easier to kill in one go. Sure, it would take some muscle power and probably be traumatizing, but I’d rather know where the cockroach was at all times than be guessing where all the tiny ones are. 

SAM: I ate a cockroach once when I was a kid. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Moving on, Danny, I need to clear something up with you: which Hogwarts house are you in? 

SAM: Oh shit, yeah, we never found that out in our last video because you didn’t want me sitting on your head in my underwear. 

DANNY: Can you blame me?

OLIVER REED: HUFFLEPUFF! 

JOSH: (to Oliver Reed) No, buddy, we’re talking about Daniel here. 

OLIVER REED: Did I fffffucking stutter? 

DANNY: I would say I’m a Ravenclaw. 

SAM: Not Gryffindor? 

DANNY: Nope, I never felt like I would fit in there. I was always pretty studious in school while you guys were the ones causing trouble. 

JOSH: You call it trouble, I call it freedom. 

DANNY: You call lighting a trashcan in the teacher’s parking lot freedom? 

JOSH: Absolutely. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Are you afraid of the dark?

DANNY: Yes. 

SAM: No. 

JOSH: (squinting) Why? 

OLIVER REED: When yer dead, the darkness becomes yew. It’s somethin’ yew can’t fear unless yew want to fear yerself, which I wouldn’t recommend, because then yew start to lose yer sense of self and decay into a shell of who yew once were. 

JOSH: Okay, yes, I am afraid of the dark. 

OLIVER REED: Don’t be, it can’t hurt yew. 

Oliver Reed’s face suddenly pales and he throws his hands up to cover his head, letting out a terrified squawk. 

JOSH: (abruptly standing to his feet) What? What’s wrong? 

OLIVER REED: My time is up. The devil is here for me. He brings the darkness.

Oliver Reed is staring directly at Sam. 

SAM: Dude, I’m not the devil. 

OLIVER REED: Tell yer mother I said ‘elloooooooooooooooooooo 

Oliver Reed crumples into a ball on the floor Wicked Witch of the West-style, out of sight of the camera, presumably back down to hell. Some smoke rises from the floor. 

JOSH: You know, for all of his flaws, he is a fun guy to be around. 

DANNY: He stresses me out. 

A knock sounds on the door. Detective Ace springs to his feet and opens the door, revealing JAKE, who is wearing his infamous straw hat, paired with a black t-shirt that reads “babygirl” in an italic font. 

JAKE: Sorry I’m late. 

Jake steps into the room and grabs a seat beside Josh, giving him a hearty pat on the back. 

JOSH: You just missed Oliver Reed. 

JAKE: Really? Darn, that’s too bad. We can never seem to cross paths. Maybe one of these days. 

SAM: You probably just have to say “shit” three times and put a bottle of whiskey out to get him back. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Speaking of shit, is there any chance you guys will do a ‘Behind the Shit’ series for YouTube?

JAKE: (whispering to Josh) Wait, why are we in the slammer? 

JOSH: (whispering back) Identity theft.

SAM: We do have the title trademarked, but we’re unfortunately legally barred from sharing any insider details about our upcoming promotional material for our new album. 

JAKE: What a mature answer to that question, Sammy Boy. The media training is finally sticking. 

Sam blows Jake a raspberry. 

DANNY: We’re lucky to have a great social media team that catches some of our best and, well, not-so-best moments to share with our fans. I think it’s important to let our audience see that we have depth to us beyond our stage personas. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Fair enough. What do your fans have to do to hear “The Barbarians” live?

JOSH: So, what they’re gonna do is they’re gonna grab their checkbook, write me a number with a lot of zeros in it, and sign their name at the bottom.

JAKE: We played Barbarians not too long ago, didn’t we? 

SAM: I think there’s a high demand that we make it a regular. 

DANNY: It’s that guitar part, Jake. They can’t get enough of it. 

JAKE: Well, that’s more than enough to stroke my god complex. I say we play it every show, boys. 

Sam notices Jake’s shirt for the first time. 

SAM: Babygirl??

JAKE: Huh? (looks down at shirt) Oh, yeah. Like it? 

SAM: I thought I was the baby? 

JAKE: You’re so baby. It’s different. 

SAM: Wha- how? 

DANNY: He’s right. 

With a grunt, Danny removes his own shirt, revealing that he’s wearing a babygirl shirt as well. Sam gapes at his friend. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Is Daniel a Sephora VIB Rouge member yet? 

JOSH: What’s that? 

SAM: I think it stands for “Very Important Bitch.” In which case, yes, he is a VIB member. 

DANNY: (softly) I do have a Sephora member card. 

JAKE: Wait, really? 

DANNY: It made a lot of sense financially. Plus they send me cool stuff every month, so it’s something to look forward to. 

JAKE: (throwing himself back in his chair) Huh. 

DANNY: I got an eyeliner pencil I think you’d like. You can have it. 

JAKE: (softly, to Danny) Yes please. 

SAM: Can I get something? 

DANNY: Sure. 

Danny fumbles around in his pockets like he’s looking for something. Sam watches him with interest. Danny lifts his hand back up from his pocket, shooting Sam the bird. Sam immediately pouts. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Can we expect any new musical instruments on the album?

JOSH: You can anticipate a lot of evolved sonic elements. With Starcatcher, we wanted to challenge ourselves and expand our sound into something that somehow feels even larger than life than The Battle at Gardens Gate. Each song should transport you to a different time, place, and frame of mind. 

JAKE: Yeah, there is a lot more experimentation happening for this album, extending even beyond the instruments we use. A lot of it lies in the production as well, which we put a lot of thought into. We’re at the point in our musical journey where it’s almost like we’re at a crossroads: do we continue developing a sound that we’ve already created, or do we move in a new direction? It’s an exciting question to face, and I guess you’ll learn the answer soon. 

SAM: You guys are talking all big about new sounds and shit, but we never reached the Beach Boys-level of experimentation, using celery as a musical instrument. 

JOSH: Sam’s still upset that we didn’t let him play the zucchini on one of our tracks.

SAM: There was potential there, and you know it. 

DANNY: Not when you’re using that zucchini as a bow on your bass. It sounded like ass. 

SAM: You shut it down before I could figure it out. I was onto something, I swear! 

Jake, Josh, and Danny all turn to Detective Ace and very evidently mouth to him at the same time, “he wasn’t.” 

DETECTIVE ACE: (scans notes again) This one looks like something my colleague wrote out. Ummmm, Sammy, when will you shave off your facial hair? Frowny face. 

Sam furrows his brow and stands to his feet, slamming his hands down on the interrogation table with a loud BANG! He glares at Detective Ace and proceeds to rip off his fake mustache, revealing his real mustache underneath. He discards the fake mustache and it lands on the side of Josh’s face so it’s almost like he’s got a single sideburn. Josh’s face contorts into a look of utmost disgust. 

SAM: Does that answer your question? 

DETECTIVE ACE: It definitely doesn’t. 

Sam retrieves another fake mustache from his back pocket and carefully places it on his face. It’s a lot more crooked than his previous fake mustache, and notably bright red. Seemingly content, Sam takes his seat once more. Detective Ace awkwardly clears his throat and shuffles his papers. 

DETECTIVE ACE: This one is for Josh. Would you ever want to pursue acting or directing again outside of your music videos? 

JOSH: Mayhaps. 

JAKE: You did not just say “mayhaps.”

JOSH: Mayhaps I did. 

Jake shakes his head in disbelief. 

JOSH: I’m genuinely distraught that I didn’t get a casting call for the new Barbie movie. But I am relieved that Christopher Nolan didn’t reach out about Oppenheimer. I don’t think I could work with Josh Peck. 

SAM: Right, you couldn’t handle there being another, more successful, Josh on set. 

DANNY: Is Josh Peck really that successful? 

SAM: (gesturing back at Josh) More than this idiot. 

JOSH: (ignoring Sam) I’ve tried writing some stuff over the years and, I don’t know, there are some projects I’d like to pursue, but right now music is in the forefront of my mind. We’ve got some momentum that I don’t want to tamper with. 

JAKE: Thank god for that. 

JOSH: I do want to make a loose adaptation of The Wizard of Oz though, where they join a cult in the woods with the apple tree men. Maybe they’d sacrifice Toto or something, I don’t know. I think it could be a good opportunity to provide commentary on the People’s Temple Church. Is that controversial to say? I don’t know. 

SAM: It’s stupid to say, that’s what it is. 

JOSH: Some people just aren’t ready for big ideas. 

DANNY: (under his breath) The last thing we need is another Wizard of Oz adaptation. No one can beat what the Muppets did. 

DETECTIVE ACE: I think I’ve heard enough about the cults. So, why do you all hate Tumblr?

JOSH: What’s a Tumblr? 

JAKE: I think it’s that thing that you put drinks in. 

JOSH: Oh. 

SAM: It’s a social media site. And no, we don’t hate it. 

DANNY: I thought it wasn’t around anymore. 

SAM: (a little too quickly) No, it’s around. 

Danny whirls around to study Sam. Their eyes dance about as if they’re having a telepathic conversation. Danny leans closer into Sam’s side. 

DANNY: (just barely audible) Why are you on Tumblr? 

SAM: I like reading fanfiction on the bus. It’s really entertaining. 

DANNY: About us? 

SAM: We’ll talk about it later. 

JOSH: (repeating himself) What’s a Tumblr? 

JAKE: I don’t hate anything. 

DANNY: You hate geese. 

JAKE: Oh shit, yeah. (through grit teeth) I fuckin hate geese. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Are you going to revive your band’s Tumblr account? 

SAM: (perking up) We have a band account? 

DANNY: Based on that reaction, I think it’s safe to say there will be some activity there soon. 

DETECTIVE ACE: (nodding) What is your go-to cereal? 

JOSH: (giving his signature chuckle) I’m sorry, uh (looks around at his band members) Why is this relevant? 

JAKE: (thoughtfully) You can tell a lot about a person by the cereal they eat. 

JOSH: So, what’s your go-to then, Jakey? 

JAKE: Honey Nut Cheerios. 

JOSH: So basically you’re boring. You’re boring, Jake. 

DANNY: And concerned about his heart health. What about you, Josh? 

JOSH: Easy. Fruit Loops. Raw. 

JAKE: So you like holes. 

JOSH: I could say the same about you, Honey Nut Cheerios are the same shape! 

DANNY: Wait, raw??

JOSH: I don’t need milk. Actually, I can’t have milk with my cereal because it builds up phlegm around my vocal cords. So I eat my cereal raw. 

SAM: I like Lucky Charms, but only the marshmallows. Wait, no, I don’t like cereal. I’m more of an oatmeal guy. 

JOSH: You’re a weird fucker. 

JAKE: So you like to eat vomit?

SAM: It’s delightful with a bit of fruit, you don’t know what you’re talking about! 

JOSH: What’s your choice cereal, Daniel? 

DANNY: I gotta go with Frosted Mini Wheats. They’re a classic. 

JAKE: That’s actually, yeah, okay, that’s a good answer. 

JOSH: I can’t find any faults there. 

SAM: I’m gonna force you to eat oatmeal when we get home. 

JAKE: I’d like to see you try. 

DETECTIVE ACE: What do you do when you can’t sleep at night?

SAM: Eat oatmeal. 

JAKE: I usually can’t sleep at night because I’m so disturbed by the image of Sam eating oatmeal. 

JOSH: I go out and look at the stars and ponder life, death, and the history of time. Usually a nice cup of tea helps me too. And some other, uh, let’s call them supplements. 

DANNY: I listen to my comfort albums. 

SAM: What? Like Billy Squier? 

DANNY: No. Like Rumors and Abbey Road. I’ve had some pretty nasty insomnia over the years, but there’s nothing quite like Fleetwood Mac or the Beatles to ease the mind. 

JAKE: When I can’t sleep, I get so frustrated that I start punching shit. 

JOSH: I once caught him punching the refrigerator at 4am. 

JAKE: It’s cathartic, but it also makes me tired enough that I can fall asleep. I’ve even come up with some guitar riffs over the years while doing it. 

JOSH: Jake wrote the “Built By Nations” solo while he was punching a lawn mower in the middle of the night. 

DANNY: I wish they were joking. 

SAM: One time Jake started punching me when he couldn’t sleep. 

JAKE: I’ve told you, it wasn’t a direct attack, it was just a convenience thing. You were the closest to me and I was half-awake. 

JOSH: This isn’t making us look very good, is it? 

DETECTIVE ACE: You’re a bunch of characters, I can tell you that. Another question, specifically for Sam: did you meet your crush, Hozier, at Shaky Knees? And who has better hair?

SAM: I feel a little bit attacked by that question, Ace. First of all, he’s not my crush. 

DANNY: He’s my crush. 

SAM: That’s right, Danny is head over heels for the guy. He called dibs. Secondly, it’s not fair to compare our hair. 

JAKE: That’s Sammy’s way of admitting that Andrew’s hair is better. 

DANNY: We did get to meet him backstage, even though it was really brief. He’s a great guy, it would be incredible to collaborate with him on something down the road. 

JOSH: His voice is like an angel. And his lyrics? Perfect. He can do no wrong. 

DANNY: Sam’s knees nearly buckled when he first saw him. I had to hold him upright. 

SAM: I thought we agreed that was going to stay between us.

DANNY: Sorry, it felt relevant to mention. 

JAKE: I met Jack Black. It was probably one of the best days of my life. 

JOSH: Did he play you the greatest song in the world? 

JAKE: No, he couldn’t remember the greatest song in the world, he could only play a tribute. 

Jake and Josh share a goofy smile. 

DANNY: Andrew, if you’re watching this, please do a song with me. 

Sam nods his head rapidly. Across the table, Detective Ace’s phone starts to ring. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Sorry, excuse me for one second, I need to take this. 

Detective Ace gets up from his seat and hustles out of the room while answering his phone with a quick, “yello?” The members of Greta Van Fleet sit still in silence, listening to Detective Ace’s footsteps grow softer. Finally, Josh springs to his feet. 

JOSH: Think he’s gone? 

Jake stands as well and peers out the window in the door. 

JAKE: I don’t see him. 

JOSH: Okay, good. We’re breaking out of here. 

SAM: What? Why? He seems nice. 

DANNY: I don’t think that’s a good idea. 

JOSH: I’m like a bird, I need to be free. 

JAKE: I just want to see if we can pull it off. 

DANNY: How do we know there’s not someone behind that two way mirror? 

Danny turns to point at the massive two way mirror that lines the wall in front of them. Jake and Josh study the mirror and then shrug. 

JAKE: If someone’s there, let’s see if they can stop us. 

DANNY: What? No. 

Josh joins Sam’s side and grabs his spacesuit helmet. 

JOSH: Hold still, Samuel. 

SAM: Huh? 

Josh slams his helmet down on Sam’s handcuffs, hitting more of Sam’s hands than the actual handcuffs. Sam starts to holler out in pain, but Josh clamps a hand over his mouth. 

JOSH: Ssshhh, don’t blow our cover, okay? 

SAM: MMMmmmrmph??? 

Josh reaches the helmet back up to give it another go, but Danny grabs his hand to stop him from inflicting anymore pain or damage on Sam. Sam breathes out a sigh of relief. 

JOSH: So maybe we can get the handcuffs off you guys after we escape. 

Behind Josh, Jake grabs a chair from the interrogation table and chucks it at the two way mirror with a shout. The chair comically bounces off the mirror and lands on the floor, shattering into what looks like a million pieces. The mirror is unscathed. 

JAKE: (out of breath) Shit, I really thought that was gonna work. 

Now it’s Josh’s turn: he puts the helmet back on his head, taps it a couple of times for good luck, and hurls himself at the mirror head first. At this exact moment, Detective Ace comes back into the room. 

JAKE: Quick! Everyone act normal! 

Josh is flattened out on the floor. Sam is tending to his hands. Danny is shaking his head in disbelief. Jake tries to block the view of the chair that he absolutely decimated with a wide stance, awkwardly putting his hands on his hips with a large, fake smile. 

DETECTIVE ACE: What the hell is going on here?

Danny crouches down next to Josh and carefully removes his helmet. 

JOSH: (softly) Did we make it out? 

DANNY: Definitely not. 

JOSH: Damn. Better luck next time. 

Danny helps Josh back up to his feet and Josh holds onto him briefly for support before regaining his balance and composure. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Do you want to join me back at the table? 

DANNY: Yep. 

Josh and Danny return to the table and grab their seats again. Detective Ace also sits, leaving Jake standing around, lost, since he destroyed his chair. Jake looks unsure what to do, and then finally opts to try and hold a squat at the table, mimicking sitting in a chair. 

DETECTIVE ACE: (nodding towards Josh) Are you okay? 

Josh shrugs.

SAM: You wouldn’t believe how much head trauma he’s had over the years. 

DETECTIVE ACE: No, I think I would. Are you all ready to continue on with the questioning? I’m sorry for stepping out, the police chief needed to check in about something. 

SAM: Everything okay? 

DETECTIVE ACE: Nothing I can disclose. 

SAM: Fair enough. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Alright. I want to talk about your “Meeting the Master” music video: is there any lore going on there?

DANNY: Yes. 

SAM: Yes. 

JAKE: Yes. 

JOSH: Esyay. 

Everyone abruptly turns to face Josh, who looks back at them in confusion. 

JOSH: Isyay erethay omethingsay ongwray? 

SAM: Oh god, he’s speaking pig latin. 

JAKE: Not again. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Not again? 

Jake stands from his squat with a grunt and a few pops and then shuffles to Josh’s side and turns him around in his chair so they’re face to face. 

JAKE: You gotta snap out of it, Josh. Snap out of it! 

Jake snaps his fingers in front of Josh’s face a few times. Josh has a delayed reaction. 

JAKE: Shit. 

JOSH: Iyay eelfay inefay. 

SAM: I think we should keep him this way. It’s kinda funny. 

DANNY: No one’s gonna know what he’s saying. 

JAKE: Does anyone know what he’s usually saying? 

Danny purses his lips. Jake has a point. 

JOSH: Owhay antsway otay alktay aboutyay ouryay usicmay ideovay? 

DANNY: I got it. There’s definitely a story being told in our “Meeting the Master” music video. I don’t think we should hand you the answer on a silver platter since there’s a lot of rewards that come with analyzing it and forming your own perspective on the message, but we definitely drew inspiration from specific art pieces, old literature, and key pieces of history. 

JAKE: If you look closely, we do a few callbacks to earlier music videos and songs as well. There’s a lot of easter eggs in there. 

SAM: The main lore is those red gloves were really hard to get on and take off. I was about ready to accept that they were going to become a part of me. 

DANNY: That’s not really what lore means, Sam. 

Sam looks like he could care less and focuses his attention on stroking his fake mustache. Detective Ace can’t stop staring at him. 

JOSH: Ethay usicmay ideovay isyay illedfay ithway agicmay, evilyay, andyay ethay owerpay atthay omescay ithway omisingpray impossibleyay ingsthay. Iyay eallyray eelfay ikelay it'syay oneyay ofyay ouryay ostmay ignificantsay andyay elevantray usicmay ideosvay etyay, eoplepay ouldshay aketay isthay asyay ayay arningway andyay asyay anyay opportunityyay otay eflectray onyay eirthay iveslay andyay ethay ecisionsday eythay akemay eachyay ayday. Inyay actfay, iyay ouldway ecommendray atthay - 

JAKE: I can’t do this. 

Jake grabs Josh’s helmet, secures it back on Josh’s head, grabs him around the waist, and chucks him into the mirror once more, head first. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Oh. 

Danny springs to his feet in shock. 

DANNY: Jake! 

JAKE: (down to Josh, who is on the floor again) Better? 

Josh groans and rolls around so he’s on his back and pulls off his helmet. 

JOSH: Je ne peux pas croire que tu viens de me jeter comme ça. (I can’t believe you just threw me like that) 

Jake hoists Josh up once more and slams his helmeted head against the mirror. 

JAKE: (out of breath) Now? 

JOSH: I think so. 

JAKE: Thank fuckin god. 

Josh and Jake return to the table. Jake swoops in to steal Josh’s seat before he can sit, leaving Josh standing behind Jake, Danny, and Sam while scratching at the back of his head. 

DANNY: (to Josh) Are you okay? 

JOSH: I’ve had worse. 

DETECTIVE ACE: I’ll ease you back in with a simpler question. How many pairs of shoes do you have? 

SAM: None. 

Sam leans back in his chair, kicks his feet up, and slams them down on the table, revealing his bare dogs. Detective Ace’s cup of lukewarm coffee is spilled in the process, forming a puddle around Danny’s discarded top that he shed earlier. 

DANNY: Aw man. 

Beside Danny, Jake is counting on his fingers while staring up at the ceiling in deep concentration. 

JAKE: I would approximate about six. But I really only wear three pairs on the regular. 

JOSH: (teasing with a callback) He keeps his pumps in the back of the closet for special occasions. 

Jake scowls in Josh’s direction. 

DANNY: I probably own too many shoes. I should donate some. 

JOSH: Yeah, donate them to Sam, please. 

SAM: I lied, I do own a pair of shoes. Actually, maybe two. Or three. 

JOSH: Will there be any consequences if I give an incorrect answer? I genuinely don’t know. 

DETECTIVE ACE: You can give an estimate. 

JOSH: Between 0-50. 

JAKE: He is a diva, you know. And divas need their shoes. 

JOSH: I mostly have sneakers, nothing fancy. I need something that’s easy to slip out of, you know, not too confining. 

SAM: Gotta let the dogs breathe! 

DETECTIVE ACE: Moving on from the feet, would you ever consider doing meet and greets again?

DANNY: Ummmmmm…

SAM: I don’t really like the idea of people paying to meet us. I mean, we really aren’t that great. 

JAKE: That’s your opinion. 

SAM: I’d rather meet fans naturally, while we’re out and about. It’s a lot more intimate that way, a lot less pressure. If you see me, buy me a drink and I’ll be your best friend. 

DANNY: I do agree with that. I mean, I value my privacy, but I don’t want to have some super commercialized meet and greet where you take a picture with me, give me a hug, and then walk away a hundred bucks poorer. 

SAM: At the end of the day, we’re just human. Treat us that way. 

JOSH: I have nothing to add to that. 

Josh reaches into a pocket in his spacesuit and retrieves a bag of red rhinestones and a bottle of glue. Detective Ace eyes him cautiously, but Josh doesn’t notice. He’s too busy tearing into the packaging and opening his glue. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Do you believe in love at first sight?

Josh places dots of glue on his cheeks and quickly covers them with the red rhinestones, looking as if he has a case of extra sparkly chicken pox. He doesn’t stop there though: Josh continues to mindlessly add the rhinestones to his face until it’s becoming challenging to see his bare skin. 

JAKE: (sincerely) I think it does.

SAM: I fell in love with my bass the first time I saw it, does that count? 

JOSH: (while still adding rhinestones to his face) Love is a delightful, innocent, beautiful thing. You really never know where it’s going to take you, but it’s around us all the time. Sure, it can be challenging to spot out at times, but I think it does have the power to strike you immediately, without necessarily knowing someone. It’s a part of human nature to love, and be loved. 

Danny is too busy watching Josh turn himself into the personification of Dorothy’s slippers to answer the question. Detective Ace takes Danny’s silence as a cue to move on to his next question. Before he can, though, Josh clears his throat and nods towards the door. Every square inch of his face is now covered in rhinestones. 

JOSH: Can I use the gents? 

DETECTIVE ACE: By all means. 

Josh hustles out of the room. 

JAKE: He’s all about his theatrics, never a dull moment with that one. 

Danny ducks underneath the table and seems to be fussing around with something. Sam leans over to ask if he needs help, and then Danny motions for him to join him under the table, which Sam does with a laugh. This leaves only Jake sitting at the table, staring at Detective Ace with a blank look. Detective Ace looks back at him. Jake doesn’t appear to be blinking. After a frankly unnerving amount of time staring back and forth at each other, Sam pops his head back out from under the table, no longer wearing his red mustache. Danny comes out as well and is wearing a long, straight, brunette wig, a fake beard, and a bucket hat, his stage makeup entirely wiped off. His babygirl shirt has been swapped for a button up top that looks straight out of the seventies. He takes a seat back in his chair and pulls out a pair of drumsticks, which he twirls around. Shortly afterwards, Josh re-enters the interrogation room with his face scrubbed clean of the rhinestones. He’s wearing a long, blonde, curly wig and his Elle Fernanda glasses. 

ELLE FERNANDA: The line in that bathroom was a-trocious! 

SAM: Elle Fernanda? To what do I owe the pleasure?

ELLE FERNANDA: I was just in town, looking around for a new chunky candamera, and I wandered in here. I saw some nice donuts in the window from the street. 

DANNY: (in a jarring British accent) Would you like to join us? 

ELLE FERNANDA: Well, you seem like a very polite gentleman. I’ll happily take a seat and settle for a little bit to rest my feet. 

Elle Fernanda approaches Jake and clears her throat. Jake looks up at her and Elle Fernanda motions that he get out of her seat. Jake looks like he really doesn’t want to, but he stands and backs away from the table. 

ELLE FERNANDA: Thank you, darling. 

DETECTIVE ACE: We were answering some questions, if you don’t mind. 

ELLE FERNANDA: Oh, please, go ahead, I’ll try not to be a bother. 

Elle Fernanda adjusts the glasses on her face and reaches into her purse, retrieving a nail file which she starts using on her fingers. 

ELLE FERNANDA: I wish I had some sticked-ons with me. They’d make my hands look really nice today. 

DANNY: (still British) Red would look pretty. 

ELLE FERNANDA: This young man gets it, he really does! 

DETECTIVE ACE: Returning back to the questioning, if you had to get a tattoo right now, what would you get and where? 

ELLE FERNANDA: Are you offering? If you pay, I’d get one now. 

DETECTIVE ACE: No, it’s a, uh, hypothetical question. 

ELLE FERNANDA: Shame. 

JAKE: Easy, “Cream” above my buttcrack. 

Elle Fernanda raises a hand up to her chest in shock. 

ELLE FERNANDA: My word! 

SAM: I’d probably get my dog’s paw print somewhere, I don’t know, maybe on the bottom of my foot or something. 

JAKE: That sounds fucking painful. 

SAM: It would be sentimental. 

ELLE FERNANDA: A little bit cliche too. 

DANNY: (still British) Maybe the Ludwig logo. Or the Borromean rings. 

Detective Ace squints at Danny. Danny is unbothered by this. 

ELLE FERNANDA: I would get something sweet, like a flow-ah, or, or, maybe a strawberry or something. 

SAM: Where would you put your tattoo, Elle? 

ELLE FERNANDA: A lady never tells. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Now, will the sword make more appearances? 

JAKE: I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting for you to ask! 

Jake hops on top of the interrogation table with ease and, seemingly out of nowhere, unsheathes his infamous sword, holding it up towards the ceiling in a pose very similar to Luke Skywalker on the Star Wars: A New Hope poster. Elle takes one look at the sword, lets out a shrill shriek, and books it out of the room. Jake seems to be energized by this since he swings the sword around a couple of times, calling out with glee. 

SAM: Jake, get down from there! 

Jake is unbelievably lost in the moment. 

JAKE: Land ho! Treasure ahead, me hearties, we’ll be rich in no time! All we have to do is cross the crocodile-infested swamp and sneak into the cave of shadows and then we’ll be in piles of gold up to our elbows! Yarrrrr! 

DANNY: (still British) Will we run into Moby Dick on our way? 

JAKE: Argh, no whales with phallic names, me boy, only reptiles with a bloodlust like you wouldn’t believe! But we’ll cut and slash through them like they’re jelly! 

Jake continues flinging the sword around which causes Sam to finally step in, carefully joining Jake on top of the table and snatching the sword out of his hand. 

SAM: (scolding) I thought we agreed to keep this thing locked up.

JAKE: (snapping out of his pirate fantasy) Sorry I want to have fun from time to time. 

SAM: (under breath) No need to go shanking people at a police precinct. 

Josh returns back to the room, still donning the long, curly, blonde wig. From the doorway, he carefully steps out of his spacesuit, revealing a blue floral mini-robe that’s open to expose his chest. He’s also wearing an impressive pair of flare jeans. 

JOSH: (also British) Sorry, this older woman was making quite the fuss in the front, going off about someone with a sword? She was in hysterics. 

JAKE: Oops. 

Josh takes a seat beside Danny and gives him a quick fist bump. 

JOSH: John. 

DANNY: Robert. 

DETECTIVE ACE: (looking increasingly skeptical about the scene unfolding in front of him) Can you tell me the song that was most popular the year you were born? 

DANNY: Twelfth Street Rag. 

JOSH: Same. 

SAM: (now also British, albeit with a poor accent) Prisoner of Love. Great tune.

Everyone looks to Jake for his response, but he is no longer at the table. Detective Ace rises to his feet to scan around the room. After Detective Ace turns in half a circle, Jake pops his head out from under the table. He’s wearing a dark, curly mane of a wig on his head and his dragon suit. 

JAKE: (British, but a bit different than Oliver Reed) Swinging On A Star. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Okay…What’s a conspiracy you believe in?

SAM: The moon landing was a complete hoax. 

JAKE: (British) Well, detective, you see, this might come across as a bit outlandish, but I believe that there is a band of young men out in Michigan who are copying our every move in order to find success as rock musicians. 

Detective Ace springs to his feet with a new surge of energy. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Aha! 

Detective Ace fumbles around with a walkie talkie in his euphoria. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Sergeant? Yes, I got them. 

JOSH: (to Jake) Nice one. 

JAKE: It was bound to slip at some point. 

Four cops hustle into the room and secure handcuffs around Jake and Josh’s wrists. Sam and Danny each get an additional pair of handcuffs around their wrists just because. 

DETECTIVE ACE: You four are charged with identity theft, for posing as the original members of the band, Led Zeppelin. 

SAM: That’s absurd! We’d never! 

DANNY: Yeah, that’s bogus, man! 

DETECTIVE ACE: Take them into processing, I’ve got a lot of paperwork to fill out. 

JOSH: This is all just a big misunderstanding, we’re our own people! Are we not allowed to take inspiration from a revolutionary band? Maybe we just have similar interests and perspectives about things! 

DETECTIVE ACE: Save it for the judge, buddy. 

JOSH: Wait until my lawyer hears about this! 

JAKE: (whispering) We don’t have a lawyer. 

JOSH: Shit!! How have we made it this far?

JAKE: Luck. A lot of luck. 

The cops escort Sam, Danny, Jake, and Josh out of the room. Josh is the last to leave, but he sticks his head back into the room one last time. 

JOSH: AND I WOULD HAVE GOTTEN AWAY WITH IT TOO IF IT WEREN’T FOR YOU MEDDLING KIDS! 

The cop drags Josh back out into the hallway and the door slams shut, leaving Detective Ace alone in the room. He studies the discarded chairs and mess in front of him and shakes his head in disbelief. In silence he lights a cigarette and takes a long drag, looking thoughtful. 

DETECTIVE ACE: Were my questions addressed? Yes, but at what cost? 

[moncherellie]

𓆩⚝˚‧no room for the holy spirit ♱꙳˚₊‧

a/n: finally it's here! been screaming into the void abt this one for... ever. a thousand thank yous to @thirsting-over-women who proofread this for me :>> my savior actually. if the religious themes offend you (whether you are religious or have trauma) i encourage you not to read, maybe check out my other works instead :D

content/warnings: 4,500 words, preachers daughter!ellie x fem!reader, nsfw, reader wears a skirt, semipublic/car sex, fingering, oral (r receiving), reader's first wlw experience, sexual awakening?, religious motif, christian themes, mild religious guilt throughout, mentions of religious homophobia, internalized homophobia, ellie smokes a lil, she's a bit mean, fuckin in a church parking lot

The pressures of being a teenage girl were hard enough without the pressures of being a gay teenage girl. Being a gay teenage girl was hard enough without the pressures of being the daughter of a fucking preacher. Ellie had never really bought into the whole 'organized religion' thing, ever the skeptic. Even as a puny 8-year-old, she asked why she had to wake up early every Sunday for something she didn't even like doing. Her attitude didn't change much after that, but her parents got stricter and stricter in an attempt to control her sacrilege. She didn't spend much time with her family, instead seeking familial bonds at school, especially with her mechanics teacher, Mr. Miller. But, you know what they say:

Strict parents raise sneaky children.

And it's true. If Ellie's dad knew what she was doing outside the holy walls of the ministry, he'd have an aneurysm and have her exorcised. But, she always thought, what he doesn't know won't hurt him.

You were the opposite. Raised the same as Ellie, you took to religion and fully participated, though mostly out of obligation. Just go every week for an hour and your family will leave you alone. This tactic, for the most part, worked. Your traditional family had their rough moments, specifically when they mocked the outfits you'd wanted to wear to service and called you some... unsavory names. But if you could avoid any similar incident, any clash with authority, you were taking the holy road.

On the outside, you were the purest of people. There was never a bad or dirty thought in your mind. You were a pillar of the community, someone that parents pointed out to their kids. "Be like them," they'd say. Your parents were proud, so you should've been proud. Should've.

You and Ellie had grown up quite close due to being in similar social groups and seeing each other every week at service. Since then, you'd grown apart as you took different paths in life, though you still felt a sense of commitment toward her; So when she cursed out her father in front of the clergy, your eyes widened.

"You fucking dick! You don't know shit about anything! You use all this- this... bullshit- as a crutch so you don't have to own up to your own baggage!"

As she stormed out, you silently move from your spot in the choir, doe eyes shining in the bath of stained glass light, and shuffle up to the front of the room.

"Father, if I may, I would like to go check on your daughter." You're a model fixture, a saint.

"Of course, my child. I hope someday she'll be more like you. I pray that-" You shuffle off again, not wanting to hear about how he wishes his daughter was different. He really wishes his child hid who she was, you think bitterly. You admired Ellie's rebellion, though you'd never say it, and you wished you were as strong as her.

You walk away from the church to the little park you and Ellie used to go to. Your memories flood with nostalgia for simpler times, and you smile to yourself, pleasantly strolling through the large trees and foliage and looking for the rough girl. You find her crouching against a tree, squatting with her head between her legs.

Is she crying?

"... Ellie? Are you alright?" You whisper, not wanting to startle her.

You notice Ellie tense up before quickly standing up and whipping around to face you, a hand behind her back. "Oh! It's... you. Hey. Aren't you s'posed to be inside?"

"Yeah, but I just wanted to check on you. That was intense in there."

"Mhm, I'm good. Just needed some, ah, fresh air. Y'know?" She sounds a little too jolly, weirdly chipper. It's suspicious.

"Uh-huh," you say, unconvinced. "Whatcha got there?" You point to whatever she's trying to conceal.

She knows she's been caught. Her attitude suddenly shifts from faux-innocence to her usual snarky persona as she rolls her eyes, leaning against the tree and revealing what she had. She brings her hand up to her lips. "Nothing."

"Ellie!" You shriek. "You can't do that! Where'd you even get a cigarette?"

She laughs as if you'd said the funniest thing imaginable. "You think this is a cigarette? Are you stupid? No offense. But are you stupid?"

You scoff. "No! I mean, you're smoking it. What else am I supposed to guess?"

"A blunt, idiot. Kush. Mary Jane. Weed. Ma-ri-jua-na." She spells out for you like you're a toddler.

You cross your arms defensively. "Okay, I know what weed is, smart guy. You still shouldn't have it. Where's it from?"

"Stole it. I just wanted to see why people liked it so much. They say it relieves stress, and I think yes." Ellie grins lazily, eyes lidded. "I got another. You want?"

The answer to your question only makes you freak out more. "No! And you stole?! You stole? Oh my goodness, Ellie, you're gonna get us thrown in jail or something!"

Ellie wordlessly watches your breakdown, eyes red and amused, the corner of her mouth turned up. "Relax, man, it's barely illegal. Who's calling the cops for a single gram? Don't be lame like that."

"Lame?" You scoff. "Are you a first grader? Ellie, it's against the law, you could go to prison. And it's not juvie anymore, you're gonna go to real jail!" Your hands flail around wildly as you explain the repercussions of her actions.

"Jail..." She rolls her eyes.

"Yes, jail! That's kinda what happens when you steal something, Ellie!" The high-pitched, prissy tone with which you said her name was starting to annoy her, but the way you looked when flustered was intriguing. Maybe in another context, she'd enjoy hearing her name fall from your lips.

Ellie takes another hit, looking up at you. She tilts her head, asking if you're being serious. "Jail? Over a single blunt? Who cares that much?"

You gasp when you realize: "I'm an accomplice!"

"You're not an accessory just because you're here." She chuckles as the wind blows past and carries her smoke near your head as you duck dramatically and swat away the smoke. She looks at you for a moment, slightly smiling. Her green eyes meet yours briefly before turning her attention back to the joint.

"Why are you using it anyway? It smells rancid."

"Already told you. I wanna know why people do it. It relieves stress and I'm plenty stressed. Plus, I look dope as shit with it, right?" Ellie leans against the tree, and a small part of you wants to say yeah, you do. "You should try it. Maybe get that stick out of your ass."

"You're gonna get addicted."

"God, it's just this once. What are you gonna do, tell my dad?" She chuckles to herself, taking a long drag.

She checks you out, head to toe, examining the flowy fabrics and neat hair and the Mary Jane shoes that drive her crazy. Who wears those? Her gaze returns to meet yours, and she looks utterly dumbfounded by you. Your eyebrows furrow as you see how her expression changes. "What's that look for?"

She shrugs nonchalantly. "I dunno. You're just so robotic. It's like you never think about stepping the teensiest bit out of line. It's creepy. You've never had an independent thought in your life. Have you ever done anything even remotely rebellious?"

You make a noise that seems to say Well why would I? "No! Of course not! And you shouldn't either, I mean look at your dad, he's-"

Her voice raises, a tone you've never heard and don't care to hear again. "-My father? You mean the preacher?" She mocks. "What about him? You don't know anything about my father." Ellie's look hardens, eyes steely and mouth pursed into a thin line. It's a look you've seen maybe twice before, both in much more tense situations. Her voice says that you can't change her mind. You don't care to try. Whatever she's referencing, you believe her.

"Okay. Okay... sorry." You say gently, losing the defensive energy you'd held a moment ago. Ellie sighs and takes an irritated puff. To relax, you think.

"And you always apologize. It's so weird. You need to loosen up a bit." Another long, somehow sarcastic hit. "What's the worst thing you've *ever* done?"

An embarrassing, very private thought crosses your mind. You obviously can't tell her what you think about at night- you're barely able to admit to yourself that you have such impure thoughts. Instead, you shake your head. "Can't- I can't think of anything."

You watch her forest green eyes roll up, then down. It's a very familiar expression on her. "Thought so." She grins up at you, and you look away into the treeline nervously. "Do you wanna try something fun?"

"Is it... illegal?"

"No. Don't worry about that." She motions for you to come closer, so you take a tentative step forward, eyeing her like a wild animal. She hates the way you look at her, making her feel alien. Just because she lives authentically. It makes her want to ruin you, to have you stoop down to her level. Then maybe you won't look at her as if she were extraterrestrial.

You need an attitude adjustment, you need to chill the fuck out, you needed to get fucked, and hard. Ellie thinks she can help you with that.

She grins that toothy smirk as she watches you step closer, taking a puff and placing the blunt between her slender fingers. She doesn't miss the way your eyes trail the two long fingers that hold it. You wonder if she's doing this on purpose.

Ellie backs you up against a tree, and you recognize is as the same old oak that you would climb with her as kids. The branches and bark have left scars on you that Ellie helped you heal. She wonders how they look now.

Your back hits the trunk with an unceremonious thump, and you startle. Ellie keeps walking toward you, now getting uncomfortably close. "Uh- so what are we..." You trail off, thinking she'll explain what she's doing right in your face. She doesn't.

Her arm raises, trapping you between the tree and her body as she studies you. It makes you want to crawl out of your skin, but feels incredibly electric at the same time- it's a sensation you've only felt around her, though you don't know why. She takes another hit and you nervously look away.

She tilts your jaw back to look at her. You have to face her pretty green eyes, unwavering as she stares you down, while you sneak glances just to check if she's still there. Your breath speeds up when she leans closer.

Ellie puts her stupid pink slightly chapped adorable smiling lips near the base of your neck.

"What are you doing?" You say breathlessly. You swear that you feel her ghosting over your skin, so close, yet not as close as you want her. Maybe if you lean in...

Before you can, she breathes out her smoke, lightly trailing her lips down your neck. Her tongue comes out to prod at the skin, tasting you. You whine. The smoke envelops the two of you, and your nose crinkles at the foul smell. You look down to chastise her but she's already looking at you with those eyes and that cheeky look. No matter what you say next to defend yourself, you know you're caught, that Ellie knows she's affected you. It's in your eyes, the way you've seized up so tightly, how you look at her like you can't wait to see what she does next.

She presses a chaste kiss on your collarbone and you crane your neck upward. You're not sure if you're trying to get away or if you're giving her more access. She pulls away and you find yourself leaning forward to try to get her back on you.

"Is that the most rebellious thing you've ever done?" She chuckles, taking another drag and blowing it over you, bathing you in the white haze. "You like being treated like that, huh?"

You shiver. "I don't get it," you say dumbly. You've never been this confused.

"What don't you get? I just think it's fun to make you squirm." She thinks you've had enough and blows her next exhale away from you. "I wanna corrupt you, sweetheart." It sounds derogatory coming from her but you find that you don't mind the tone. The spot Ellie had made contact with feels as if it's burning. You crave for that feeling all over your body.

You stammer over your words, pathetically unable to spit out any sort of coherent reaction to her. Any reaction would be better to tripping over your words. Fed up with trying to sound like a person, you decide to stop talking.

"You enjoyed that huh? Admit it." She inhales and repeats her action. "Makes you feel hot inside."

"What? No- no, are you insane?" The sane part of you is telling you that you shouldn't be doing this, especially not with Ellie fucking Williams of all people. She's everything you aren't- she's rude and snarky and devilish... and tall and strong and hot. Oh shit! The batshit insane part of you is slowly melting the angel on your shoulder, and you can basically see the little devil cackling as you feel yourself straying further from the good girl persona you'd cultivated. You feel your heartbeat in your pants.

Ellie begins to kiss down your neck, sucking and licking at your jaw and collarbone. This time, you're acutely aware that you're actively giving her access to do as she pleases with you. "Maybe I'm insane, but I can tell. You did like it. And if you deny, I'll do it again until you tell the truth."

"Well I didn't, so you can forget about-"

She places her thumb on your lower lip as you start your tirade, effectively shutting you up. "Too late." Ellie leans in and before you know it, her lips are on yours. Her arm snakes around the back of your waist and pulls you as close to her as you've ever been. That warm feeling flushes down your body, leaving chills across your skin. More. All you can think is that you want more. Your hands come up to grip her shoulders, you almost want to push her away, but you find yourself pulling her closer and closer. No room for the Holy Spirit.

Ellie pulls away, smugly looking down at you. "Told you you liked it."

"I didn't say that." You were being a contrarian on purpose at this point. Anything to keep Ellie treating you like this- you wanted to prolong this moment for however long you could. She hoists you up, bringing you out of the park and into the back of the parking lot. She throws you into the backseat of her beaten pickup and crawls atop you with darkened eyes.

You squeal in surprise. "El-lie!"

She continues to kiss you, making you wetter by the second. The heat pooling in your panties is so fucking embarrassing, but you find that you don't care how humiliating this is. You just want more.

"Els, what if someone sees?"

She scoffs as if the idea is preposterous; as if the prospect of getting caught is impossible. "Nobody can see us, and they won't leave until later. Don't stress about it." Ellie bites her lip and it makes your body get hot flushes. "I can do whatever I want to you. But you know what? I think you'd let me. Is that right?"

"...Maybe." Read: Yes, yes, anything! She leans down, placing her hand on the back of your neck and pulling your head closer up towards her. Her hand forces your legs apart further to allow her access. The way she lays on your inner thighs, atop your clothed core, makes you feel lightheaded. You love the way she manhandles you, and it's exactly how you thought she'd be. Every time she adjusts her position, your clit rubs against her and sends jolts of electricity up your body.

"I knew it. You're not as perfect as you try to be. You're dirty."

You want to deny it, you really do, but the evidence is clear. You're disheveled under her, lips swollen from hers, and she's pulling your panties to your ankles and shoving them in her jacket pocket, yet you're ashamed to say that you don't feel an ounce of guilt over it.

Despite how excited you are for whatever is about to happen, you're still incredibly nervous. This is the most physically vulnerable you've ever been with another person, and the fact that you're completely bare under your skirt makes your stomach flip.

Your face must betray your emotions because Ellie momentarily softens. She pulls her hands away from your hips and cups your face, peppering kisses across your cheeks and up to your forehead, making you laugh lightly. "You alright? We can stop."

"No... please don't." Her face lights up.

"Sorry, say that again?" You roll your eyes and she chuckles. "I knew you were like this. Not so pure now, huh?"

"Guess not."

"So you admit it?"

"...Fine. Yes."

Ellie sighs in relief as if her thirst were quenched- that's what she's been wanting to hear from you forever. She could see it in the way you snuck glances at her during mass, finding your wandering, hungry eyes from across the room. She could feel it in the way your hand lingered on her a little too long to be friendly, your touch suspiciously light, like if you touched her any harder you'd start to tremor.

But now, there's no semblance of the timid person you'd been. When Ellie pulls away, your hand comes up to the back of her neck to pull her back in. You're insatiable, and Ellie fucking loves it. She tugs at the bottom of your sweater. "Pull that fucking thing off. Show me those pretty tits." Her breath becomes heavy as you oblige and become needier. "Did you know you were this easy?" She teases.

"What? I'm- I'm not." Everything she says feels designed to evoke the biggest reaction from you. She keeps you on your toes, never letting you get too comfortable. How exciting.

"So it's just for me then?" You don't answer, and it excites Ellie to know that she's right. This reaction is purely for her. Nobody else has seen you like this, and she's grateful to be the one who gets to corrupt you. It really didn't take much effort. "You're so easy to control."

Her hands drift back to your thighs, sliding under your skirt, her lips press to your jawline. Hot breath trails along your neck, down further to your collarbone. Her fingers slide over your inner thighs, sensitive skin rippling as she applies light pressure, testing how reactive you are. You twitch, unwittingly opening your legs more and giving Ellie more access. "You look good like this, though."

Ellie's fingers dig into you, grasping the flesh of your ass and moaning softly into your ear. Her thumbs are on either side of where you desperately need her, and your hips buck up into her, seeking her touch. "Knew you had a nice ass, too."

"Shut up." You mumble.

"Why would I? You like it when I say things like that, don't you? You wouldn't be this drenched if you didn't." She swipes the pad of her thumb over your clit and applies delicious pressure. You nearly cum on the spot.

Is this what you've been missing? This pleasure, this euphoria? Ellie grins at your reaction, drinking in your desperation for her like a succubus. "Aw, sensitive little pussy. Haven't you touched yourself like this before?"

You had, a few times, actually, but it never went this far, deep-rooted guilt gnashing in your stomach and ending the moment before you'd been able to finish. After admitting this, she coos at you. "Poor baby." Her tone is so condescending, but it makes you clench around the tip of her fingers.

She slides the first knuckle of two fingers past your entrance, pumping them in and out painfully slowly. "Ellie, you prick. Come on." She continues her ministrations, gently stroking your entrance, never giving you enough to feel remotely satisfied. She uses this time to take in your disheveled, sweaty appearance. Your cute tits bounce as you shift uncomfortably, waiting for Ellie to please you. A bead of sweat rolls down and she can't help but bring her mouth up to lick at it as it slides over your nipple. Her mouth attaches to you and you sigh, holding her closer by her hair. She grins up at you, making eye contact through her lashes. You can see the tip of her tongue poking out, wetting your bud as the cool air nips at you, making you all the more sensitive. Even now, Ellie still hasn't stopped her teasing below.

"Can't call me a prick then beg for me to fuck you. 's not how it works, pretty girl."

"Then what do you want?" You whine.

Ellie can feel your clit flutter and pulse as she moves. "Fuck, you're so desperate for me, aren't you? I want you to tell me how bad y' want me."

"I- I d-" You begin to protest, being cut off with a squeal as Ellie licks a sloppy stripe up your pussy, finally tasting you.

"Don't bullshit me. If I'm gonna fuck you, I needja to be a little more honest with me. I see how you look at me. You been trying to push some thoughts down, huh?"

It was so humiliating how well she could read you. Whenever her tongue came out of her mouth to take communion, your eyes would be trained on the muscle, breath hitching as she would wink at you. Without fail, you would trail your gaze up her body when Ellie walked in with a suit, her way of dressing nicely for service. Always, always, she could feel the heat radiating off your body as she pulled you closer, not taking her eyes off the pastor speaking.

Your thoughts were impure, sinful, and how embarrassing that Ellie knew. You believed you were hiding it well- obviously not.

"Yeah. Maybe."

Ellie's big hands wrap around your thighs, fingers landing on the sensitive skin near your pussy. She looks up at you and you can feel her hot breath on your clit. It takes everything in Ellie to not eat you out immediately, but your embarrassment is too tempting to pass up.

"Tell me about it. You try to fuck yourself thinkin' of me?"

"I do. I- I tried to, at least. Doesn't work."

"Why not, babe? You're so responsive right now." Her fingers find their place back at your entrance, pushing in as you speak.

"I- oh, shit-" You gasp.

Ellie grins. "Talk to me."

"My fingers aren't good enough."

"Ah," she says, "and mine are?" She knows the answer.

"So good."

Ellie likes that she's made you desperate enough that you've abandoned your pride. She enjoys the flush on your face as you shamelessly admit your secrets to her, the good-girl persona a figment of the past.

She's so busy staring up at how your face contorts in pleasure that she doesn't realize that she hasn't moved her fingers in a hot minute. The teasing is torturous for you.

"Ellie," she hears you whine, "Please!" You rut your hips against her fingers and she feels lightheaded. Jesus fucking Christ.

"Sorry, pretty girl. Got distracted." She smirks. "I'll give you what you want now." Ellie finally moves her fingers, curling them in and out slowly. You groan again and she laughs. "Okay, okay! Sorry." Her face darkens and she bites her lip. "You want me to fuck you? Alright, I'll fuck you."

Ellie's fingers begin to pump inside you, hitting all the spots that make you jump and squirm, and you're sure the rusted heap of a car you're in is about to fall off its chassis. She's going so fast and hard that you're immediately overwhelmed and you don't know where to put your hands. In the span of a minute, they cup your face, a forearm slings over your eyes, and you throw your arms up against the window. Finally, you settle on cupping your cheeks, fingers slit open so you can peer down at Ellie's focus on you.

Her eyes haven't left your pussy since she started. She's absolutely mesmerized by how fucking wet you are, how you seem to suck her fingers back in as she tries to pull out and your body betrays how desperately you want her. Ellie's mouth is slightly agape and she can't help when her tongue flickers out to lick curiously at your clit, wanting to taste you again.

"Fu- fuck!" You yelp, bucking your hips up into her face. Ellie snorts as she watches how you squirm. You can feel something building and though you have an idea of what it is, it's building fast and slightly scaring you. "Wait, Els, hold on a second, something- ah- I think- I think I'm-"

You're nervous about how it creeps up on you so suddenly but you find there isn't time to be self-conscious about it because you cum, and you wonder why God could possibly think that doing this is a sin. How could it be a sin if it felt so right?

You don't know what sound you made or how your face looks, but by the way Ellie looks up at you, it must've been something. Her eyes flicker back down to how your clit pulses as you finish, leaking cum onto her fingers and trailing down her hand. You know what she's fucking thinking because you always do. Before you can form a sentence, she's licking up your cum like it's the best meal she's tasted.

You shudder violently. "Ellie, holy fuck, stop, I'm still sensitive! Oh m- Ellie, come on!" Only when you push her face up does she stop, giving you the cheekiest grin.

You roll your eyes and throw your head back against the car door, panting. The dull ache in your thighs is apparent when you attempt to sit, pulling your panties up and cringing at how your cum pools on them.

Ellie still hasn't said anything. You glance over at her, wondering how she feels about whatever just happened. She's looking down, grey hoodie still pulled up to her elbows, staring at the fingers she'd just fucked you with. She glances up at you, a shit-eating grin spreading across her face. 

“That was hot.” Her hand rubs up and down your thigh, a kind of comfort you’d never received from her. It wasn’t unwelcome.

You don’t quite know how to feel. There are twinges of guilt gnawing at your stomach, that religious guilt creeping in. Had you done something wrong? 

But at the same time, there was a warmth in Ellie’s gaze that made you feel like maybe, it was all worth it. Was it unholy? Almost definitely. But this awakening couldn’t be all bad if she kept looking at you with those soft, fond eyes.

my masterlist...

[rafescurtainbangz]

Professor Cameron #2 - Rafe Cameron One Shot + 18

Minor DNI

Part 1: Link

Rafe × female reader (No use of Y/N)

Warnings: smut, language, swearing, drinking and smoking

Fingering, oral (female receiving), oral (male receiving), unprotected p in v, pet names, squirting, overstimulation, praise kink, ownership kink, older Rafe, possessive rafe, jealous rafe, obsessed rafe, choking, spanking, degradation, name-calling, pussy slapping, mating press, reader calls rafe daddy

Lightly edited

4.1K

Don't let the beginning fool it’s a lot of smut lmao 😂 thank you for all the love on part 1! 💕💕💕

Taglist @imyourdaninow @gri959 @redhead1180 @romaescapes

Enjoy! ❤️✨

Tanneyhill...

Later that night

"Holy shit," you whisper, eyes following Rafe's house all the way to the top. The grandeur of it all begs the question, does a professor really live here? I mean, I'm sure the university pays him well, but not this well. This is old money.

Tracking the brick walk, you make your way to the front door, smoothing out a very different ensemble than you wore this afternoon. You breathe a sigh of relief, thankful at this moment that you decided to dress up. Your pink satin mini-dress blows lightly with the cool night breeze, an open back cinched tight, showing off your curves.

Truthfully, I didn't think that would happen. Just teasing between friends until that fictional tale came true. I never thought he would actually cross the line.

Rafe was right... The boys at school weren't cutting it. They were selfish, inexperienced, and immature. That was only an hour? What could Rafe do with a whole night? On a bed instead of a desk? He said he had a 'real big house,' which is the understatement of the century. I can make as much noise as I'd like. He's going to take care of me... Me.

I've never felt pleasure like that in my life. The part that excited me the most was that I was holding back, not wanting to get caught. What would happen if I let myself go? The part that scares me, however, is the fact that I'm already in too deep.

What if Rafe's thought about it since? Not in the way I'm hoping he would, the way that would stop him from doing it again. A moment of clarity where Rafe realizes that he may have made a mistake. I'm his student... He's my professor.

What if he's doing this with other people? What if I'm not the only student in Professor Cameron's class getting "extra credit"? Am I just another one of his girls?

I can't think about that.

I'm feeling things. And, I can't stop.

KNOCK. KNOCK.

You can hear shuffling behind the door, watching as the knob turns. The door fans open; Rafe meets your gaze with a smile. "You... Wow. You look stunning," he hails, bearing the door as you pass through.

Fuck, he looks good. You feel yourself get a little frazzled as you take Rafe in. A slim black button-down and slacks, coupled with yet another pair of designer dress shoes. He smells delicious; that same cologne reapplied, already burned into your brain. "You alright?" He smiles, looking down at you.

"More than alright, Rafe. Just a little nervous."

"About what?" He puffs, cocking his head to the side as he shuts the door. "Told ya I didn't bite. Not unless you want me to," Rafe chuckles warmly, turning you under his finger as he checks out your little dress again. "Goddamn. You're flawless."

"Thank you," you whisper as your cheeks blush. Rafe keeps his hand in yours, guiding you deeper into his house, letting you take it all in.

"So, what are you so nervous about?" Rafe presses a little further, not wanting to let it go until he figures it out.

"I don't know... I didn't expect to be here. I'm just - I hope you aren't having second thoughts."

"Me?" He chuckles; twisting his face slightly as a crooked smile spreads on his lips. "Never. No second thoughts."

"Okay... And, am I the only one-"

"Who's gettin' extra credit?" He snickers, reading your mind entirely. "You are the only one."

"Ever?" You ask, your voice just above a hush, kicking yourself for asking it in the first place to a grown-ass man. Rafe turns you toward him, lacing his fingers in yours; his lips meet your forehead, kissing you softly.

"If you're askin' if I've ever had sex in an office, and I said 'no,' I'd be lyin'," he chuckles weakly. His palms come up, resting gently on your cheeks, guiding your watch to his. "But, if you're askin' me if I've ever done that with a student... never. I've never done that."

You give him a soft smile. "I'm so happy I'm here with you."

"Me too," he hums. "Now, let's go relax. Yeah?" You nod as Rafe leans in, meeting your lips; kissing you deeply. Heat spreads across your body; the contact sets you ablaze, your entire being craving more of him.

Rafe walks you to his study, the mahogany countertop, adorned with six elegant bouquets. "Do you like flowers, princess?" He smiles; his hand resting on the small of your back.

"Of course," you respond dreamily, bending in to smell each. "Six? Rafe, this-"

"I didn't know what your favorite was..." He interjects, "Pink roses?" Rafe guesses, based solely on your reaction.

"Yeah, pink roses," you giggle. "Thank you."

He steers you to his leather couch, taking a seat. Before you can sink down, his hands are on you, guiding you to straddle his lap. You rest your hands lightly on his muscular chest as Rafe eyes you in his arms. His rough hands graze your back, landing on your bum; kneading your curves slowly.

"M'so glad you're here," he soughs, his lust-laced eyes locked on your lips. His crystal blues lift slowly to yours, sending chills down your spine. "You're still nervous sweetheart? Aren't you?"

You shake your head 'no' as you lean in close, kissing him tenderly. His hands drift down your bare thighs, slipping under the hem of your dress. "I'm not... I swear," you whisper as you widen your thighs, pressing your pussy against his rock-hard bulge as you start to grind slowly. Your lips hover close, Rafe, matching your steady breathing. Tension builds as you wait for the other to break.

Rafe kisses you deeply, a passionate exchange, pushing your hips to ride him clothed. "Need to taste you again. Fuck, you tasted so sweet," he mumbles between kisses. Rafe wraps you in his arms, lifting you off the couch. "Just a little bit now. I need it. Don't let me go any farther. Alright? Not yet."

He rests you back down on the couch, pulling you where he wants you, your body desperate for his lips. Rafe drops himself down to his knees for you, taking control as he spreads your thighs, eyeing your glistening cunt with a hungry groan. "No panties?" He chuckles darkly, his dangerous gaze flickering to yours. Rafe brushes your folds, gathering your essence all over his fingers, before sucking them clean as your eyes roll back. "M'so fuckin' hard, princess. Can't wait for you to suck my cock; make me cum again. Get that pretty little mouth of yours around my dick," he sighs. His strong arms loop around your thighs, pulling you closer than before, slumping you on the couch.

Rafe's eyes stay locked on yours as his lips do the same to your clit, sucking and brushing his tongue from side to side. He moans against your pussy, as his fingers toy with your entrance, teasing your pearl with the chilled ridges of his gold ring. Your thighs tremble, tightening around him.

"C'mon, baby," he taunts, spreading you wider, sucking and finger-fucking you with a little more force. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, holding back your cries of pleasure.

"Hey... Woah. Woah... Wait a minute, baby girl," he chides. "Need to hear you. Alright?"

"Yes, daddy..."

"Well, shit..." Rafe rasps as he grabs your legs, slinging them over his shoulders. "I could get used to that."

Everything increases; your heart rate, the pressure, the depth of his tongue in your soaked hole. "You taste like heaven," he pants, bumping his nose against your clit, making your thighs quake. Rafe laps at your pussy, devouring you completely. He breathes deeply, taking in your scent; the vibration of his low moan felt against your heat.

Rafe takes your clit into his mouth, sucking harshly, making you cry out; heels digging into his black dress shirt as you buck your hips; voice echoing through the large house. "There ya go... Atta girl."

Your back arches, lips crying out for him. "Fuck, Rafe. M'right there," you blubber. You reach for your satin straps, tugging down the top of your dress, letting your breasts spill free. Your hands instantly draw up to your tits, squeezing and pressing them together for him. Rafe bites down on your swollen clit; making you throw your head back. A choked sob spills from your lips.

Your hands drop down, weaving into his hair, giving it a rough tug. You grind your pussy on his face, feeling yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy. "Rafe, s-shit." Your eyes screw shut as you cum on his face, pleasure coursing through your system as your pussy clamps down around his thick fingers. Rafe works you through your orgasm, waiting until you're fully unwound to release you with a panting breath.

"Need it - Fuck. I need your cock in my mouth," you gasp; eyes still shut as you do your best to recover.

"Baby, c'mon..." He chuckles breathily as his lips find yours. You can taste yourself on his lips, making your mind fuzzy. "I wanna share a drink. Take you on a tour... You were supposed to hold me back. You can wait. Right?" You can hear the taunting in his tone, a devilish smirk playing on his kiss-bitten lips.

"Yes, daddy."

Rafe cups your breasts in his hands. Pinching and rolling your pebbled blush between his fingers. He sucks down, trailing wet kisses before biting your sensitive skin, causing you to moan again. "You're mine," he whispers, nuzzling himself into your chest. "I don't want anyone else to have you but me. Understand?"

"What - Wait..." You ask breathlessly. "I mean. Are you sure, Rafe? You barely know me. What if I didn't come into your office today-"

"You would have... eventually. I just got lucky. I always get what I want, princess. I don't wanna see you come into class with anyone else. Don't wanna overhear some douchebag talkin' about some absolutely stunning girl he took home from the bar. You're mine. My pussy," he breathes, making your breath hitch as he slaps your sensitive cunt, soothing it with his cupped palm. "My tits," he mumbles, licking a line through your cleavage as he palms them together. "My lips," he whispers as he kisses you again. "My fuckin' girl. Mine."

"M'yours, Rafe."

**********

"So, you're a professor? Just a professor?" You ask through a flirty grin as you swirl your champagne.

"Yeah... Got bored. Decided to go to college, then grad school; got my doctorate for fun," he rasps before taking a sip.

"So..." You look around, letting your silence speak for itself.

"I made some smart business decisions when I was young. Set myself up nicely."

"Mob boss?" You quip, making him cock his brow and laugh.

"If I told you, princess. I'd have to kill you." Rafe plays along, shooting you a mischievous look. "So, you're pretty far from home. You plannin' on going back for Spring Break, or are you gonna hang around here?"

You laugh nervously, wrinkling your brow, confused yet intrigued, charmed that he went out of his way to find out more about you. "How do you know where I'm from?"

He clears his throat, regretting his words slightly, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt on his thick forearms as he shifts anxiously. "Uh... Um," he puffs, draining some more liquor into his champagne flute. "Your student account," he mumbles sheepishly.

"Professor Cameron!" You gasp, flirtingly, as you lean in a little closer.

"S'bad. Alright. I know. I know! I couldn't help myself. I had to be proactive. Alright? High stakes. I gotta be real careful who I associate myself with."

"And you can associate yourself with me, Rafe?"

"Yeah. I have a good intuition, princess. Questionin' yours a little," he bullies. "That neighborhood you live in is shit, by the way. It's not safe, baby."

Your eyes double in surprise. The more he exposes, the more it should worry me, I know, but he's pulling me deeper. He's possessive, calculated, obsessed even. But, I fuckin' love it. How much more does he know about me?

I need to know.

"You look handsome," you laud; just a slight bite of your lip as you lean into the armrest, hair tumbling to the side. You cross your legs, letting your little dress ride up your thigh.

His eyebrows raise, running his palm against his wide smile, attempting to play it cool as he stares at the valley of your thigh. "Just tryin' to keep up with you, baby. You look stunning. Did you wear that-"

"On New Year's Eve..." You finish his sentence as a smirk pulls on your lips, Rafe taking the bait effortlessly. "Do you follow me on Instagram?"

"No... Just stalk you," he admits, not an ounce of shame in his voice. He can see that you clearly enjoy his attention. "Like I said... Gotta be careful who I keep around. Not to mention, I had to keep an eye on who else was watchin' you. I don't share." He smirks before tossing back the rest of his champagne. Oh...

"That's all you did, Rafe? Just look at my pictures; make sure I was safe?"

He gives you an open-mouth smile as a blush creeps across his cheeks. "You really wanna know?"

"I really wanna know..."

"That red swimsuit you wore in Cabo might be my favorite thing, princess."

You roll your eyes, expelling a dizzy laugh. "So... Again, Professor Cameron, is that all you did? Just look at my pictures; make sure I was safe?"You bully before taking a sip.

His gaze darkens on yours, the look in his eyes telling you more than enough. "Absolutely not."

Rafe adjusts himself in his chair, spreading his thighs a little wider as he pinches a fresh cigar between his lips. He reaches over to the coffee table, snagging the Perrier-Joute, drinking from the bottle. You can see that he's getting more comfortable as time passes by, as well. Laughing a little more, a few more buttons on his shirt undone, drinking straight from the source.

"So, Rafey," you ask in an unholy tone as you stroll from your chair to his, dropping down to your knees to slink the rest of the way. "Is there anything I can do for you? I really need that A." 

He quickly forgets his cigar, resting it in the ashtray without a second thought. Rafe extends the bottle to you, pouring it carefully, some still dribbling from your glossed lips down your chin. He leans down, pinching your cheeks in one hand, licking the mess to your lips. "I got a few things you can do for me, princess."

"Tell me," you whisper, fingering the buttons of his Dior button-down before pulling it open fully. Your fingers trace down his tanned chest, passing through the deep indentations of his abs to his black leather belt.

You can already see his long, thick cock; trapped in Italian wool, making your mouth water. "Since you're on your knees," Rafe smiles as he pinches the button of his pants, opening that, then the zipper. "Why don't you choke on daddy's cock. Hmm?" You can feel the wetness between your thighs, the soft sweetness of his voice contrasting his domineering words, making your head spin. You draw the material over his hips, releasing his aching dick.

You glide your fingers through your pussy; gathering your slick on your digits, taking hold of the base of Rafe's cock. He shakes his head and smiles as his teeth tug on his bottom lip. You work him slowly, watching as the little bead of precum grows larger.

Rafe's hand toils through your hair, brushing it away so he can get a better view of your face. "So pretty on your knees, baby-" Rafe's words get lost in a moan as your warm tongue traces along his prominent vein, catching his cum as it drips down the side.

You lick a few fat stripes up his shaft, kissing his ruddy tip wetly as his dick twitches in your palm. "Fuck, honey," he groans deeply, tossing his head back on the leather chair. "Might not ever let you leave." His hold on your strands tightens as your warm, wet mouth wraps around his swollen tip. A deep moan follows as you suckle on Rafe's head, flicking your tongue along his slit. You caress his balls, taking him to the back of your throat.

Rafe pushes you a little farther, releasing a needy moan as you deepthroat cock. Tears roll heavily down your cheeks as you take as much of him as you can get, gliding off slowly; swirling to the tip, making Rafe's eyes roll back. "Jesus Christ, angel, where's that gag reflex? Huh?" He laughs airly. "So good at sucking cock." Rafe pitches his hips, ramming you deep, making you gag. "Mmm... Shit. There she is," he groans.

Rafe slumps a little lower as he lifts the bottle to his lips, taking a pull. "Gonna bust my load already... Damn, you look good," he praises through a panting breath, making his stomach muscles flex. His thick thighs tremble as you start to stroke him with your mouth, rolling his heavy balls in your tiny hand. You release his cock with a pop, causing him to let out a desperate plea for more.

"M'so wet, Rafe," you whine, feeling your wetness drip from your pussy, gliding down your inner thigh. You take two fingers, skimming them through the mess. Rafe's already set, snatching your wrist; guiding your dainty fingers to his mouth.

He savors the taste, only releasing them when you tighten your lips around his dick again. Twisting your hand at the base, you bob up and down. Rafe follows your strokes, pressing you down here and there as he mumbles praise. "Lips look so good around my cock, sweetheart. Look at you, take it, baby. Such a good little slut f'me. Gag on it. Fuckin' gag on me. Mine... This mouth is fucking mine."

You hollow your cheeks, milking his cock with your mouth, making him whimper and shift in his chair as his eyes slam shut. "I'm right fuckin' there. I - I'm... Fuckkk," he moans, hazy eyes widening as you sink your pussy down on his dick instead.

"Bounce on my cock. Tits in your face," you whisper against his lips, repeating his words from his office as you lower the top of your dress as well.

"You're a fantasy, baby. Fuck." Rafe slaps your ass cheek roughly, then the other side, hissing out a breath as your pussy tightens around him. Rafe pants and groans, his muscles wound tight as he tries to hold steady, watching you as you ride and bounce on top. He's speechless, eyes moving from your face to your breasts; losing control when he glances down, watching the place where you connect; his thick cock glistening with you.

"Fuck me," he grunts in blissful defeat, taking a harsh grip on your hips, pounding deep. Rafe moans your name as he cums hard, continuing to fuck upward, gritting his teeth in overstimulation. No part of him wants to stop now that he has you like this. Rafe pulls you into his lips, kissing you slowly as you grind through his sticky spent.

"Should I stop?" You whisper, feeling Rafe's smile spread against your lips.

"No, princess. Don't fuckin' stop."

********

Your garter belt wraps around your thighs, lingerie hugging the fullness of your breasts; something new, something bought by Rafe just for you. It's a gorgeous set; cups made of two large satin ribbons tied at the center; your crotchless panties, a delicate red lace.

"C'mon, princess. Stop makin' me wait," he croons.

"This is too much, Rafe... I don't need all of this. Truly," you sigh as you round the corner, relaxing against the doorframe.

Rafe licks his lip, savoring each glimpse of bare skin. "Nah... This one's for me." He pushes off the bed, moving toward you, pulling you close before kissing you deeply, breaking away from time to time, solely to take you in. "Better than I imagined..."

"You thought about this?" You hum.

"More than I should, princess," Rafe breathes, lifting you into his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist as you bend your arms a little tighter around his neck, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Rafe walks you over to the bed slowly, taking his time as you press your chest against his, hearts picking up pace together. He sets you down on the mattress, mounting you a moment later.

Rafe's absolutely beautiful like this: dark blonde hair a mess, flushed cheeked, skin dewy. He cages you in, admiring you for a moment before starting again. He grinds his dick against you, trailing pre cum on your skin as he works his body against yours. Rafe continues to tease the both of you, his cock, painfully hard as you wait for him to ease your ache.

He swirls his dick through your arousal, nudging your entrance with his swollen head. Rafe gives you one last look before dropping his focus low. "Shittt," he groans as your walls pull him in. He fights the urge to throw his hips into you, working slow enough to let you feel every curve and ridge until he's filled you to the brim. You don't even realize you're holding your breath until he rests his heavy head on your shoulder.

"Fuck, Rafe."

"Squeezin' me so tight," he breathes. Rafe completely bottoms you out, balls resting against your ass. He grips your hips, forcing himself even deeper, pressing his cock into you with his full weight making you squirm away slightly.

"Where are you goin', Princess?" He mumbles against your warm skin, the safeword you joked about during dessert right on the tip of your tongue, but the pleasure outweighs the pain.

"Nowhere, daddy," you pant as you wrap your legs around his waist, urging him to stay.

"My girl," Rafe growls, lips latching onto your neck, sucking harshly. He marks you with his lips, branding you with what will surely leave behind a dark purple hickey. His teeth sink into your skin, causing you to whimper.

Rafe starts to rock his cock into you, nailing your sweet spot each time. You wrap your arms around him, marking him in your own way as your manicured nails drive into his skin. Rafe moans your name, getting off on the ache.

His body drags away from yours, tugging at the bow between your breasts, letting the satin fall to your sides as he changes positions. Rafe starts to stroke as hands move from your hips to your breasts, gripping them tight, pinching and rolling your nipples before settling on your neck.

You wait impatiently for his grasp as Rafe studies his skin on yours. He smirks wickedly, watching the way his rings glint in the low lighting, his hand wrapped like a necklace around your pretty little throat.

Rafe tightens his grip, making your eyes roll back as he pumps into slow and deep, snapping his hips each time. You can feel yourself a little more breathless than before; your pulse felt under his heavy hand. You let out a choked cry as his other hand finds your clit, rubbing circles on top.

"Faster," you beg, your voice cock-drunk and hoarse.

"Mmm... Bet my little slut wants it harder too. Yeah?"

"Yes - Fuck," you squeal. Your breasts bounce with each clap of his hips, his fat tip kissing your g-spot with each thrust. Rafe gives it to you harder and faster as you feel your pleasure about to boil over.

He's just as pussy-drunk, eyes glossed, pupils blown. Your eyes flutter closed, drool seeping out of the corner of your plump lips. You feel Rafe's breath on your skin, his soft tongue cleaning you off just as he did with the champagne, spitting it back into your open mouth this time.

His tongue tangles with yours, sloppy and breathless, as you swallow each other's sounds. "M'gonna cum," you gasp, feeling tears of pleasure well in your eyes.

"Me too, baby. You gonna make a mess? Let me clean it up for you," he pants.

"Yeah-ahh," you answer shakily. Warm liquid squirts from your sex, soaking Rafe's thick cock and his expensive sheets. "Fuck, Rafe," you whimper. I can't believe I just did that... I've only seen that in porn. Rafe quickly snuffs out your embarrassment as he coaxes you further.

"Fuck, baby. Just like that. I think my girls got more in her. Don't you?" He grunts, not letting up, applying more pressure to your clit. You feel it again; a second release, Rafe fucking you through the spurts of your climax.

Rafe was right. He always gets what he wants.

"Gonna cum... Gonna fill you so full, Princess. Fuck," he moans.

"Cum in my pussy, daddy."

Rafe's eyes roll back at the sounds of your voice, his release following close behind, muscles tightening as he floods you with his finish.  He throws his head back, breathing deeply as he comes down from his high.

"Co'mere..." You whisper. Rafe gives you a satisfied smile, burying himself in your neck; holding you close for a moment before rolling you on top.

You rest your head on his chest, listening as his heart starts to slow with his breathing. Rafe's rough fingertips skim your spine as he releases a deep breath. "Mmm... Baby?" He mumbles sleepily, wrapping you tightly in his arms.

"Yes," you whisper, blissed out and breathless as you meet his beautiful eyes.

"You're never leaving."

[sameschmidtdiffname]

Repentance

Billy x Gender Neutral! Reader

('Burn' gifs are limited and this was hotter. Sue me.)

Summery: You know the phrase 'sleeping angels?' Yeah, not in this fucking house. Pretty soon it's gonna be you or him, but Billy may have a trick or two up his sleeve to provide a happy ending for you both

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specified genitals for Reader, prequel/standalone fic for 'My Ghost' but not required reading to enjoy this fic, ('My Ghost' may even be enhanced if you read this first, I'll be fr.) Porn with plot (if you are only here for plot, the porn is only in the second half and is easily skippable), snoring, Reader is sleep deprived, non-serious threats of violence, mentions of gun violence, banter, make-up sex, drug usage/alcohol consumption, Dom!Billy, Sub!Reader, Reader goes mostly non-verbal after smoking but their thoughts don't, dumbification, Reader gets spoiled and folds like a lawn chair me too bitch me too, massage turning into sex, doggy style, Reader gets that good dick that knocks their head into a wall, vocal! Billy, dirty talk/talking through it, pet names, possessive sex, mentions of wet dreams, happy ending for everyone :)

Other Works in This Series: 'My Ghost' (Original) • 'Lapses' (Sequel to 'My Ghost')

Notes: This was supposed to be a drabble and it was not gonna contain smut. What can I say, when the holy spirit of a short man with big brown eyes compels you, you compel him into your bitch. Anyways, this was inspired by this headcanon written by @g0ry0re0! So if you liked this fic, please thank her as well in the comments and go support her works because this wouldn't exist without it!! They're a fucking great writer as well.

                            -¤°》◇《°¤-

Have you ever killed a man?

I might.

Listen, I'm not a bitch. I'm not unreasonable even though that was a hell of an opening statement. But if you'd dealt with the shit I've put up with for the past few nights, you would understand.

How can a man who's not even that fucking large in stature make such noise? What the fuck is wrong with him?

I kick him to try and hit a reset button. It works for five minutes, which is long enough for me to begin to relax again. Right before his snoring revs up like the engine of that bike he loves parked on our front lawn. Maybe I'll run him over with it. Be poetic, take him out with his own weapon. Don't the reports show just how deadly motorcycles are compared to regular cars? It's bad for your health.

Okay, I'm assuming that bit because I'm tired, I'm cold, and Billy won't shut the fuck up. It was a little cute when he was just spending the night and we were hardly sleeping. But now that he actually lives here?

Kick. Stop. Wait. Snore.

Goddammit.

Billy has the fucking audacity to greet me with a smile this morning. Sitting at my fucking table, smoking from the ashtray I fucking made him. He should be ashamed to look so good with no shirt on, displaying his chest hair for the whole neighborhood to see as he sits near the open window with coffee set in front of him like he owns the damn place.

"Morning beautiful," he says with a smile. What fucking nerve does he have to sit there and act so happy about while I hate him?

"You snore," I growl. His eyebrows shoot into the air, this son of a bitch has the nerve to widen his smile.

"I'm sorry?"

"I said you fucking snore," I repeat.

"Don't think I've heard that complaint before," he says, shifting in his seat to look at me better. I don't like the way he looks in those sweatpants, grey and hugging the wrong areas for my attitude.

"You haven't dated anyone long enough for someone to complain about it," I mutter under my breath. His eyes focus on the oversized shirt I wear that alright, maybe I stole from the drawer I stash his things in that I now claim as mine. We live together, it's inevitable, fucking fight me. Watching me as I walk into the kitchen, taking the coffee pot off the dock and pouring some into my cup.

"Something I can do to make up for it, shirt thief?" He asks, leaning back in his seat and manspreading, his hands on his horribly thick thighs. "I was wondering where that one went," he mutters to himself, amused.

"Yeah. See a fucking doctor."

It's day five. I'm genuinely considering homicide.

Dear God, or Allah, or whoever you are. If I shouldn't suffocate this man, give me a sign.

...does the short snore that escapes Billy's mouth count?

It doesn't matter what I do. If I turn him onto his side, if I kick him, if I shove ear buds in and blast whatever music I can sleep to at max volume, he's louder and I'm on my last straw. It's him or me.

"William," I say, poking my head up from the old pillow.

No response.

Maybe it's safe.

Maybe he's dead.

Maybe he'll stay quiet.

I lay my head down once more.

"...what?"

"You fucking snore."

"I'm sorry baby," he slurs in half baked consciousness, turning to wrap his arm around my waist as he presses hot, open mouthed kisses to the back of my neck. "Can I make it up to you?"

"Yeah, let me sleep."

"Sleep is for the weak."

I am weak. I am very, very weak.

"Put your dick away."

"It isn't out."

"I can still feel it."

With a grumble and his face buried in my hair, he abandons his quest in favor of returning to whatever dreams make him keep me up at night. And I am so close to joining him when he starts back up hardly two minutes later. Right in my ear.

With a final huff, I tear the blanket off of him and stomp my bleary eyed way to the living room. Fucker is too sleepy to even notice. Fuck him.

I'm not amused when I wake up in the ungodly hours of the morning sprawled on the couch, Billy's foot in my face as early morning light peaks through the shitty blinds.

"You followed me," I groan, my voice rough with sleep.

"I followed blanket," he slurs.

"It's mine."

"I was cold."

"You snore."

"I've offered consolation, you should take it."

"William, have you ever shot a man?" I ask, bolting upright as I wipe the crust from my eyes.

"Fucking what?"

"Have you ever shot a man?" I repeat slowly, properly enunciating each word.

Billy's eyes dart to the side, then back to me, wide but still tinted from sleep.

"...no?"

"I've considered it," I tell him. "There's a gun in my nightstand. And if I don't get some sleep soon, I'm going to use it. I haven't before, but I can't imagine it's hard."

Billy presses his lips together in a thin line, knowing I'm not serious but that I'm on the last straw.

"... should I go back to bed?"

"I can go back to bed," I say. "You can stay on the couch."

"That's a great idea."

"I'll take the blanket."

"You do that."

It's only two hours later when I'm woken by the alarm, and the smell of sausage is fresh on the air. Even if it was short, the sleep in solitude feels refreshing, no interruptions from Yellowstone volcano on the other side.

When I wander into the kitchen he's in the midst of finishing his preparations for a feast. And by feast I mean a fuck load of eggs with sriracha on top and plenty of sausages to go with it. There's also a pile of toast, the bottle of homemade cinnamon sugar next to the stick of butter besides it.

"Morning beautiful," Billy tries carefully, eyeing me as I lean against the hallway doorframe. "Coffee's on the table."

Whatever I said earlier- which may or may not be blurry to me at this point -has clearly changed his attitude. He's even set out the hazellenut creamer for me, a treat.

"Did you sleep well?" He asks, setting a heaping plate in front of me. I don't know how to tell him I'm too sleepy to eat.

"Better," I say. I take a slice of cinnamon covered toast, trying to convince my stomach to wake up. "Kinda cold, though."

He smiles softly at that, setting down his own plate to join me. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." I return the smile, taking a small bite of the corner of my toast. He takes a sip of coffee and brushes his foot against mine under the table. The silence is sweet, apart from the radio just ever so quietly playing in the background to add to the calm morning atmosphere Billy has created for me. His hair is ruffled from sleep, his hand nervously fiddling with the thin chain around his neck. He glances at me, smiles apprehensively, then breaks the silence.

"Do you actually own a gun?" He asks, trying so hard to sound casual.

My brows furrow before I realize what he's referencing, letting out a loud laugh and almost dropping my toast in the process.

"I'm not gonna shoot you, Billy," I laugh, trying so hard to maintain my composure.

"Last night you called me William. I did not like that," he laughs nervously.

"William, I will not shoot you."

"My mother calls me that, I don't want you and my mom calling me the same name."

"Willy-"

"Fuck you," he groans, laughing. "You're terrifying."

"When I don't sleep," I add for him. He nods, eyes wide and brows raising in agreement. "Did you seriously make breakfast because you were worried I owned a gun?"

"When you meet the devil, you meet demands," he says. I kick at his foot playfully, giggling.

"The devil doesn't really eat breakfast."

"I know, I packed lunch too."

Fuck free will, I should've done the gun thing a long time ago. When I walk back into the ramshack house that evening fresh off my shift, Billy has dinner, a bowl and a bath prepared for me upon my return.

"I did not take your comments seriously and I'm sorry," he says genuinely, taking my coat. "I should have and you have suffered. Consider this repentance."

"Repentance is nice. You hide the gun too while you were at it?" I ask.

"I'm not answering that."

Billy may be many things, and a cook is one of them. It's simple, fresh, and nice after a long day. The backrub I'm getting while I eat makes the flavors even sweeter.

"I feel an urge to clarify my threat was not serious," I joke between bites, taking a sip of the wine Billy had run out and gotten special for the night.

"I'm well aware, but this is overdue anyways," he says softly. "You're mine and you deserve nice nights." He presses a warm kiss to the spot just under my ear, making me blush. "My baby needs spoiled."

"Well, I certainly feel spoiled," I say contently, finishing the last bite. I lean back in my chair, letting him explore my neck as his gentle hands work their way through my many knots, whispering sweet nothings in my ear all the while.

"Wait until I tell you what kinds of oils I slipped in your bath as well," he whispers in my ear.

If this is repentance, he should snore more often.

I'm stoned, zoned, and completely naked across the bed as Billy carefully massages my legs, phone propped on a spare pillow beside my head as I stare blankly at the show in front of me.

His hands are slick with oil, gliding across my skin with ease as he works at a knot on the back of my calf.

"I've been ignoring you too much," he muses, his voice soft and loving as his thumbs work in small circles. "You're much too tense for my taste."

I am too stupid to respond with English. I will tell him later about the day I've had at work, running around for fifteen different customers and a boss I can hardly stand. But for now a low moan will do, my mind too blurry from substance use and the stimulation that makes me dizzy with want.

"Does that feel good?" Billy asks, pressing a small kiss against my shin. I moan again, eyes fluttering shut. "Wanna make sure my baby sleeps well tonight."

Oh, I'll sleep phenomenally.

His hands abandon me, searching for the bottle of lavender scented oil, coating his hands before reaching for the back of my thighs, right below the curve of my ass.

"How's the show?" He asks me, digging deeply into my tissue in a way that makes me moan, arching my back subconsciously as the stimulation takes over my thoughts. "That good?" He asks, voice deep as he chuckles.

"Very good," I confirm, my voice soft against the freshly washed bedsheets. I have never said a bad thing about this man. I would never curse the provider of relaxation. Any claims otherwise are false and slandering against me and my man.

"You're grinding against the bed, you realize that, right?" Billy asks bemused, his thumbs drawing deep circles against the inside of my thighs, making me gasp in want. "There something else you want?"

Whatever strain he has given me has made me nonverbal, but the squeak I let out is answer enough. For me, anyways.

"I need words, baby. Words. Vague noises are not consent," he says softly.

"Motherfucker that noise was not vague," I snap, lifting my head up briefly before resuming my mindless appreciation against the bed. Billy's laugh echoes throughout the room, his hand lightly smacking my ass before reaching for the small towel and bottle of lube on the nightstand, wiping off his hands before squeezing a generous dollop onto two digits.

His fingers press against my entrance slowly, coating it with the thick, cold lube, making me squirm and gasp against him, my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

"I'm gonna start off slow, okay baby?" He says gently, still stroking my entrance as he positions himself above me. "You let me know if you want me to change something."

I moan in understanding, but it's not enough for him. His voice is low and rumbling by my ear, his lips teasing at my shoulder.

"Say yes if you understand," he says softly, breath hot against my ear.

"Yes," I say just as soft.

"Good," he praises, pressing a soft kiss to the back of my neck. "Good baby."

His cock slowly sinks inside of me, the pot from earlier making the sensations deeper and more vibrant as I feel the sweet stretch even at the top of my head. Billy moves slow, taking his time to enter me as though we had all the time in the world. I can't help but pant against the bed, whining for more intelligibly as Billy sheethes himself to the hilt, pressing himself against my g-spot just perfectly at this angle, no real effort needed when I'm like this. My eyes roll at the touch, my hips bucking in uneven, stupid rhythms against him as he remains still inside of me. Fuck it, he could snore in my ear right now and I'd let him.

Billy's voice is breathy, moaning as he brushes my hair with his hand. "Let me know when you want me to move," he moans in my ear.

"I am," I whine. "Fuck me."

He chuckles against me, his voice rough as he continues in a slow, even rhythm. "You don't want to go slow first?" He asks, pressing a kiss to my spine as he slowly slides against my spot again, his cock making me clench tightly around him.

"Uh uh," I moan, still trying to buck rapidly against him. "Want more."

"You usually get so overstimulated if I start fast at this angle," he teases, ignoring the pace of my hips in favor of his. "Can't even finish fucking you if I start out fast, you're so sensitive by the end."

That's a lie. Terrible lie. Slander.

"Do you really want me to go fast?" He asks softly, one hand finding my hip to guide me to a better rhythm.

"Motherfucker, yes," I whine, lifting my head. He chuckles, much to my annoyance. "Fuck me like you own me."

At that he grabs my hips, slamming me against his base before he begins to violently abuse my hole, fucking directly into my g-spot and never missing once as he fucks me hard enough to make the bed slam into the wall, making a painting rattle on the wall behind us.

"Jesus- fuck- wait!" I cry, my hips subconsciously trying to escape his abuse while I clench around him, silently begging for more.

He slows his pace once more, pressing such soft, sweet kisses to my spine as he speaks. "See? You can't handle it like that. You're half fucked out already and that wasn't even five seconds."

He's absolutely right and I should listen to him more. How wise is my man.

"If I was really fucking you like I owned you," he says lowly between slow, long thrusts, his hands guiding my hips gently as I whimper with each move like the bitch I am. "I'd pick the pace. But here you are, telling me what to do and changing your mind the moment I give it to you. So indecisive is my baby." Very indecisive. Go fast again. "And I'll do whatever you want like a good man should."

I will stay home with the kids. I will scrub my permanently stained linoleum floor until it shines like the top of the Chrysler building. I will spend my days barefoot and pregnant if he so requests of me. In Jesus's name, Amen.

Billy moves slow and purposefully against me, grinding his cock and moaning in my ear while he watches me, smacking my ass here and there when he wants to watch it bounce against his hips.

"So pretty," he moans. "Even prettier when you cum. Is there something I can do to help?"

I whine against the bed, feeling edged and whoreish with his thick dick pulsing inside of me, fucking me into blind submission and making me willing to do anything he says.

"Would someone like for me to go faster?" He coos sweetly, slightly speeding up his tempo as he slams more gently into my spot. "Does my baby wanna get fucked?"

I nod stupidly, whining and huffing as he slowly continues to gain speed.

"You gonna cum around me? Take my cock real nice and fast?" He asks, smacking my ass once more. I clench upon impact, making him do it again and again until he laughs.

"Cum in me," I moan. All care has been thrown out the window, my head scrambled and vision blind.

"Yeah? You want that?" He teases. His balls smack loudly against my front, offering additional stimulation and making my eyes roll. "Looks like you're drooling over it." Motherfucker I am, and?

"I'm gonna fuck you so good you sleep for days, sweetheart," he moans in my ear, slamming into me hard enough to make me squeal. "Kept dreaming about you for the past week. Kept getting all nice and hard only to have you wake me up before I could fuck you. Come to find out I was keeping my poor baby up, being my own cockblock."

His cock pistons in and out of me at impressive speed, one of his hands slamming against the bars of the metal headboard to offer him stability while he fucks me, the bed ramming against the wall so loudly it's all I can hear besides him. I think the painting fell.

"Now we can both sleep better at night. My balls empty, your ass nice and full. Think I'll do it again tomorrow," he muses, slamming me against the bed, pushing me higher. "And again." And higher. "And again." Until the top of my head pounds against the ceiling. "Till the fucken cows come home."

Moo, bitch. Moo.

With a pathetic scream, hardly able to make any noise due to the violent climax, I cry his name as I clench around him. His dick pounds my head into the wall absuively as he chants my name like it's the only word ever known to him, his voice raising in volume until he's shouting it so clear it raises above the rocking of the bed, loud enough surely for the neighbors to hear. I'm hardly even aware of when he cums, or really anything at this point, his dick pulsing within me and fucking his admittedly larger than usual load into me so deep you'd think there'd be no chance of it to escape. I'm only aware he came when his cock finally softens, our cum dripping and pooling underneath of me in a mixed puddle when he slips out with a small whimper, his breath so heavy and wheezing I'm almost scared he'll pass out on top of me.

"Wanna go again?" He jokes, his voice worryingly pathetic as he tries to laugh, sounding more like a death rattle than anything. All I respond with is a shaky thumbs down, my head spinning from the possible concussion I may genuinely have.

It's an effective sleep method. Works wonders for both of us.

                              ▪︎》◇《▪︎

After he slips out of the house one winter morning with my gun tucked in the back of his jeans, I can't tell you how much I'd give to hear him snore against our lavender scented bed one last time, feeling his arms that are now ash and bones on the floor of a gas station just outside of town. My only company now being his ghost echoing his bright laughter down the darkened halls of what was once our home.

You like my ending bbgirl? Special just for youuu.

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

Masterlist

[lol-jackles]

https://www.tumblr.com/teamfreewill2pointo/750106101611151360/hi-finale-anon-here-thank-you-so-much-for-your

I’d love to get your take on this post. I don’t agree with it. Supernatural was about Sam’s hero journey which the finale completes the arc established over the 15 seasons.

Why is it difficult for people to see the basic and timeless story construct?

Supernatural is Sam Winchester's Hero Journey, it's all here in the "Hero Journey" tag. Dean Winchester is a very popular character, the awesome sauce but not the main course, which I explained in the "Support Protagonist" tag.

Link. Here I had thought Will viewed the finale through Destiel-rose-colored glasses but it turned out he was interpreting it through BiBro-stanning-lens. And Will's proof that SPN is just as much as about Dean as it is about Sam is, wait for it, "Dean was given a myth arc"', as in singular.... out of 15 seasons. Did he mean season 10? Because according to Jensen, season 10 was a “rare Dean centric storyline” and how "Dean's rarely in this position of being the focal point of the general story's motivation," (X). Is Will disregarding Jensen's own words?

Will: "you can't remove one brother without the whole thing falling apart."

True you can't remove Sam, otherwise there is no story. Once Jared planned to leave SPN, WB canceled the series. Remove Dean and with some minor tweaking, SPN will mostly still be the same (X) but it probably wouldn't have lasted 15 seasons. It would be more like Buffy with 7 seasons. (X)

Will: Sam returned to the ordinary world and got a wife and child because it did it for Dean.

Actually Dean gave his blessing and permission for Sam to return to the ordinary life he always wanted for himself. It's why season 15 clumsily shoehorned "Drag Me Away" episode just a few weeks from the finale to remind the audience that Sam wanted out of the hunting life since he was a kid. Yes Sam went to hell for Dean but it was unquestionable that Sam also did it to save the world. It set Sam apart from Dean's motive for going to hell which was only to save Sam, he didn't care about the world.

Will: "everything Sam did was for Dean".

Yes, by giving up his own desire for an ordinary life so that Dean wouldn't be alone. Sam told Charlie back in season 9 that he only stayed in the hunting life because he loved Dean. But that's not enough for AA stans and even some Bibro stans because they may have realized that Dean and the hunting world is the "belly of the beast" that every protagonist enters as part of their hero journey arc, which goes against their personal biases or agendas.

Will's Anon was only talking up to Return of the Jedi in their Star Wars analogy and Sam never became a witch and he never "used his powers". Holy smoke that was the whole point of depowering Sam after season 5 so that he doesn't end up an ex dues machina! Or am I mis-reading Will's writing and he was actually talking about Sam's power in the first 5 seasons?? Regardless, Sam is NOT a witch, what the heck is Will smoking???

Will, listen to me carefully: Luke's hero journey goal was to become a Jedi. Sam's hero journey goal was to return to the ordinary world. It was never supposed to be a one-to-one comparison, Kripke never said that.

Now we come to Will's streaming value argument by using the 2023 chart to "prove" that the Carry On finale isn't driving equal watch time for each season. How is that supposed to even make sense? Will is ignoring the very basic human nature of simply tiring out from watching so many episodes. The rate of decreasing viewership from season to season is fairly consistent. Unlike hellers, the general viewers will start with the first season and gradually peter out.

A bad series finale will kill the popularity of the show and gets memory-holed. A disappointing series finale will put a big question mark in the rewatch value. "Carry On" finale did none of this because it made narrative sense, as Jensen said when he paraphrased what Kripke told him.

See my "Carry On finale is awesome and here's bunch of reasons why" tag.

[duchesschameleon]

five (a Delphi Racing fic)

a percy jackson x formula 1 fic

pairing: percy jackson x annabeth chase

rating: t for teen

warnings: alcohol mention

read this fic on ao3

Percy lets out a shaky breath, foot bouncing on the floor.

One more race. Thats all thats left of this season, all that’s left for him to win a championship. One more race to beat Jason and solidify his place in history.

“Hey,” a voice calls out, pulling Percy out of his head. “You okay there?”

He looks up, sees the familiar face of Annabeth Chase, the head engineer and car designer for Delphi Racing popping into his room.

“I’m good. Just. Last race. Last chance to win this thing for you.”

Annabeth steps further into his driver room, smiles softly at him. “Win it for yourself, Seaweed Brain. Double points finish should wrap up the constructors championship for us. If my math is right, Jupiter Motors needs a 1-2 finish to beat us on that front. And that’s not happening, because I’ve got the best driver on the grid in my car.”

Percy smirks at her, sitting up a little straighter. “Best driver on the grid, huh?”

She rolls her eyes at him, faking exasperation. “I’m not saying it again. Not until you win this race.”

“Got it, Wise Girl. Win from pole and make it a grand slam?”

“Sounds like a good plan. I think that’s the Plan Alpha Grover has for you, if I heard the briefing correctly.”

Percy barks out a laugh, his nerves calmed by Annabeth’s presence, the way they always are.

“Thanks, Annabeth,” he says, standing up and taking her hand. “Guess I have a championship to win now.”

“Anytime, Percy,” she replies, squeezing his hand. “Go win your fifth championship, bring it home.”

——

He brings it home. Wins from pole, fighting off Jason Grace with all he’s got and manages to snag a fastest lap to complete the grand slam he promised Annabeth.

It’s a close race, the gap to Jason never bigger than 10 seconds, and the two swap positions the whole race. It’s a hard fought win, but it’s a win. His fifth world drivers championship in a row and Delphi Racing’s fifth constructors championship in a row.

It’s a new record, and one Percy already wants to beat next year.

“That’s P1 Percy Jackson! You are the world champion, and you sealed the deal with a grand slam!” Grover says through the radio, his excitement palpable.

“Holy shit, holy shit we did it!!” Percy says back to his race engineer. “Thank you so much, everyone! Couldn’t have done it without you, Grover and everyone in the garage!!! Holy shit!!”

“Congrats, Seaweed Brain!! That’s a fifth world championship! I’m so proud of you, everyone here is.” It’s Annabeth’s voice on the radio this time, her smile evident in her excitement.

“Thanks for the amazing car, Wise Girl,” he responds. “Tell me we got the constructors championship too?”

“We got it, you and Will both got on the podium. P3 for Will, he held off Zhang amazingly. I’ll see you on the podium, you’ve got some burnouts to do.”

“It’s a date.”

His radio clicks silent and Percy sticks a hand out of his car and signals to Jason Grace and Will Solace that they’ve been given the go-ahead for burnouts. He gets two thumbs up in response and immediately turns his car while hitting the break. Smoke goes up around him and he giggles, despite being a fully grown man. He giggles because he’s doing burnouts once again as the world champion and it’s the best feeling to have won this way, to have fought the whole season and have an actual competitor this year. He’s got no doubt in his mind Jason will be the one on the top step next year, Jupiter really challenged them and he’s a strong driver.

But not strong enough this year. This year, it’s Percy on top again. Percy who gets to walk out last and stand on that top step of the podium with Annabeth on the constructors podium.

They hear their anthems play, a sense of pride for both of them, and Percy stand straighter than he ever has in his life, still can’t believe he pulled off this Herculean task, but it’s real. It’s real, and his mom is in the crowd, crying happy tears as she holds his sister and leans into Paul, and his dad isn’t far away, eyes also wet with tears. It’s real and Annabeth is right there, just out of reach on her own podium, but looking at him with eyes full of pride and love.

And then it’s time for the champagne.

The anthems end and Percy can see Will putting down his trophy, switching it out for the champagne bottle at his feet that he starts to shake before slamming it on the ground, causing an eruption of champagne to flow out.

Percy grabs his own bottle, aiming the spray at his teammate as he gets doused from all sides, Annabeth joining the fray as well.

Jason’s good naturedly spraying all three members of the Delphi Racing team, his smile not quite reaching his eyes, but Percy knows from the cool down room that Jason had done everything he could, Percy was just better this race. So Jason sprays them, celebrates his P2 finish in the race and championship standings, having just edged out Will over the season.

Percy’s pulled out of his head by a shower of champagne down his back, Annabeth’s laughter right in his ear as she upends her bottle down the back of his race suit.

“Oh it’s on, Chase,” he says, shaking his bottle a little more before dumping it over her head, saturating her blonde curls in champagne.

“Percy!” she squeals, sputtering as the champagne runs down her face. “Oh my god, I’m gonna look crazy for the photos now.”

“You still look fine, you used waterproof makeup earlier,” he reminds her, arms slowly wrapping around her. “Now, I believe you owe me something,” he says, lips turning up into a smirk.

Annabeth rolls her eyes at his dramatic approach, but lets herself be tugged closer to Percy. “You’ve certainly fulfilled your end of the bargain,” she says, reaching to cup Percy’s cheek in her hand.

He can’t even think of anything to say in response, so he just crashes his lips onto hers, fulfilling a promise made at the start of the season.

“Win another championship for me, and the I’ll kiss you on the podium Seaweed Brain,” was the ultimatum Annabeth gave him during the first race weekend, when Percy whined about another season of keeping their relationship under wraps. And win he did.

It’s not their best kiss, Percy pressing hard into Annabeth, gripping her to him as they balance on the podium together, nearly empty bottles of champagne in hand, most of the liquid sprayed on the ground around them or clinging to their clothes.

No, it’s not the late night or early morning kisses shared on the beach, a kiss shared in his driver room before a race, or one behind their motorhome afterwards. It’s not filled with finesse, but it’s special because it’s one that tastes like champagne and winning and not hiding anymore. After six years, Percy can kiss Annabeth in public on purpose and not worry about the repercussions.

“Spray the lovebirds! They need to cool off!” Percy hears Will yell, feels the champagne spraying him. He wraps his arms more securely around Annabeth, poorly attempting to shield her from the onslaught of champagne.

“Took you long enough, Jackson!” Jason yells from the other side, also spraying them.

“Oh come on!” he protests, glaring at Jason over Annabeth’s shpulder. “We had our reasons!”

“Yeah, and yet almost the entire grid knew anyways! Worst kept secret,” Will throws back.

“And yet, you all helped us keep it from anyone outside of the grid. I’d say best kept secret,” Annabeth retorts, raising an eyebrow at her other driver.

“Touché.”

“And now the secrets out,” Percy murmurs to Annabeth, drawing her attention back to him.

“Secrets out,” she confirms, smiling up at him, grey eyes sparkling. “What are you gonna do about it, Jackson?”

He doesn’t respond this time, just drops his champagne bottle to more firmly wrap his arms around Annabeth, hands splayed across her back as he pulls her in again and kisses her. Their lips pressed together, he dips her, arching her back as he smiles against her lips, the happiest he’s ever been.

Percy lets out a breath when he pulls back, this one steady when hours before it had been shaky. He smiles down at Annabeth, presses one more quick kiss to her lips before standing her up straight again.

He’s a five-time world champion. His team are five-time constructors champions. He’s dating the woman he’s had a crush on for longer than he probably realized and got to kiss her on the podium under a champagne shower. He’s got a pretty good life.

[forthe-theoi]

★ Hekate's Deipnon ★

WHAT IS HEKATE'S DEIPNON?

Hekate's Deipnon (or Hekate's Supper), at its most basic, is described as a religious offering meal given to Hekate and the restless dead once every lunar month on the new moon.

However, there is more to the event than just that. The Deipnon itself contains about two events; the ritual purification (Oxuthumia) and the actual supper (Deipnon). As well as this, many modern polytheists will also do a physical cleaning of the house and ending things that were started the previous month (such as paying off bills, finishing projects, etc.).

OXUTHUMIA

Oxuthumia is the ritual purification of the home before the actual Deipnon.

This purification can include;

cleansing via smoke/incense

sweeping the home

physical cleaning and decluttering

cleaning of any altars/shrines

Many like to include house sweepings in the main offering for the Deipnon, so be sure to save them for that if you want!

THE DEIPNON

The Deipnon itself is the act of giving offerings to Hekate and the restless dead, usually at the crossroads, on the night of the new moon.

Traditionally this was done at some form of crossroads, but if you cannot do this outside for any reason, the offering can be left at the altar.

Usually, the offering consists of:

garlic or leek

a liquid libation, whether wine, honey, water, etc.

eggs

house sweepings (from the Oxuthumia)

You may be wondering, who are the restless dead?

The restless dead are essentially people who have died and not received a proper burial, died violently, or died prematurely. These are what you may see be called 'ghosts'.

One superstition about the Deipnon is, "once you give the offerings at the crossroads, walk back home and don't look back or you may see the restless dead, giving you bad luck". (unfortunately I cant find where I read this, so please take it with a grain of salt).

OTHER WAYS TO CELEBRATE

paying off all bills that need paying

paying off other debts, financial or otherwise

giving thanks or offerings to deities you forgot to during the past month

finishing projects

cleaning or other housework

writing out thank you cards, notes, etc.

getting rid of things no longer needed/wanted

emptying your Kathistkos, if you have one.

EXTRAS

Orphic Hymn to Hekate

translation by Apostolos N. Athanassakis, Benjamin M. Wolkow

Lovely Hekate of the roads and of the crossroads I invoke. In heaven, on earth, then is sea, saffron-cloaked, tomb spirit reveling in the souls of the dead, daughter of Perses, haunting deserted places delighting in deer, nocturnal, dog-loving, monstrous queen, devouring wild beasts, ungirt and repulsive. Herder of bulls, queen and mistress of the whole world, leader, nymph, mountain-roaming nurturer of youths, maiden, I beseech you to come to these holy rites, ever with joyous heart, ever favoring the oxherd.

SOURCES

Circle for Hekate - Volume I by Sorita D'Este

Hekate: Her Sacred Fires by Sorita d’Este, Raven Digitalis, Vikki Bramshaw

Hekate Liminal Rites by Sorita d’Este, David Rankine

[ashes-writing]

outer banks ● one girl two guys pt 9 ● j.maybank + t.thornton

warning

asshole!jj, mentions of sexual encounters, swearing, angst -omg so much angst. lowkey hurt my own damn feelings here lads, love triangles but like.. not exactly? writer doesn't know how to write a full on triangle but she is tryinggg, complicated home lives (reader and topper have mommy issues, we all know jj has daddy issues ), jealousy, affection / filth / kissing ( body fluids dude ), use of petnames (cupcake + love or baby maaybe an occasional princess), violent confrontations (past and present), very small hints of the treasures that the show is centered around so au warning? yeah? yeah.

<- reader / you is a female with female working parts + clothing and appearance. you/reader also have a bit of personality and a past, nicknames or petnames. this is self indulgent and i have no shame.

word count

2445 exactly. for any missing context (unless you're a minor, ofc) part 8 <- click the bolded to be taken to it.

summary

after your night with Topper Thornton, things are starting to become a lot more clear. but how much more messy can/will it get before decisions are made and realizations reached?

taglist + shoutouts

taglist is here... if you'd like to be added to it, please let me know or click the bolded and add yourself. If you're not here for a whole complicated mess and i've tagged you, lmk.

@tbmunson bestie iloveyousofuckingmuch omg. this.. this would not have come together without us just discussing it a little while ago. I owe you my life, because you're my inspiration and you're amazing. hope you're prepared for the angst, oops rip.

@writingreadinglurkingandsmirking baaaabes. omg so like.. you may have been right in your comment on the previous part. i may or may not have chosen violence today? your comments have me living over here, they mean so much more to me than I can express properly and I've really really, really enjoyed reading every single one. you're the sweetest and honestly, i'm just thrilled you like this so much.

@valentineshiftz lol, the pregnancy scare won't happen... yet. but like.. your comments give me life, babes, i can't thank you enough holy shit, you don't know how much it means to me that you're caught up in this -messy as hell as it is, and you're reading it and i just am moved and thrilled that you like this so thank you, thank you sm.

@stilesstilinskisgf oh my god you are the sweetest i swear. your comments are so sweet and you're too good to me, i'm just so happy you seem to enjoy this and you've taken the time to read, ahhhh. thank you sm!

other links

masterlist ● jj's masterlist ● topper's masterlist ● about + rules

← what’d you do? Move him in, cupcake?

← his jeep has been there since Monday.

← you know he’s probably just using you. Why are you even going along with it?

← I’m sorry, okay? I’m really, really sorry.

← I miss you cupcake.

← Never thought I’d see the day you turned Kook.

You’re reading the texts that JJ sent and you roll your eyes, tossing the phone to your nightstand. Every part of you is tempted to just pick up the phone and have that one big fight. But if you even think about it, you chicken out. Because you can’t lose him, you’re not ready to give up completely. 

,, but you’re starting to fall in love with Topper. You really are your mother’s daughter, huh? Right down to being torn between a Kook and a Pogue..” the thought comes and it’s enough to make you scowl. You finish the cigarette you ducked out to smoke and you shove your phone  down into your pocket. Just as you go to reach for the handle on the door leading into the bar, you hear your name being called from the top of the alley.

“Why can’t you just leave it alone?” you wonder to yourself as you tense all over. Your stomach is churning. You don’t want to talk to JJ right now, you know if you do and he says the right combination of things, one thing or the other will happen. One, he’ll finally drive you right into exploding and saying things you can’t take back, which will wind up costing you your best friend and two.. If he’s here for another reason and he says just the right things in just the right way, there’s a chance you won’t be able to resist him and the last thing you want right now is to mess up whatever’s just happened between you and Topper Thornton.

“Go away, JJ.” you call out and it’s tired.

JJ walks down the alley and stops to lean against the wall beside you. “You don’t know how t’ text somebody back, cupcake?”

“That goes two ways, JJ.” you rub the bridge of your nose. Obviously, it’s the first scenario that’s about to happen and you’re not ready for it, you’re dying for a hole to open up in the pavement and pull you down, straight to hell.

“Are you fucking him, cupcake?”

“JJ, don’t.” you try to place a hand against his chest and shove him back as he steps up into you but he ignores it, stepping closer instead. “ Answer the question.”

You roll your eyes. Of course he’s not going to just let this drop and walk away. He’s JJ Maybank, he’s confrontational as the day is long. And you  really do not have the patience for it tonight, not when you’ve been getting groped by old money drunks all goddamn night because Topper had to be somewhere for his grandpa and he isn’t here to buffer like usual. And the second you catch yourself feeling bothered by it as if you rely solely on him for your own safety, you're beyond frustrated with yourself because it's a very slippery slope, depending on other people is. And it's something you're fighting like hell not to do.

You swallow hard. “You don’t want me to do that, JJ.”

“Oh, I want you to, cupcake. I asked, didn’t I?”

“Why the hell do you care? Are you not fucking her right now? Why aren’t you with her anyway, JJ? She’s your girlfriend..” you go quieter, “Not me. I.. I tried to show you how I felt. You didn’t want that. You don’t get to do this now.”

“You’re my girl. You’ve always been my girl. Answer the question.”

“Okay, fine. We’ve been fucking nonstop. We’ve fucked on my bed, in his Jeep, on my mom’s kitchen counter, behind this bar.. Is that enough, JJ or do you want details? Do I need to paint you a clearer picture?” and maybe it’s a lie, you’ve only hooked up twice so far, but.. You’re too angry now to be bothered with trivial shit like the truth. You’re not thinking about what you say or how you say it, otherwise, you would’ve told a white lie to placate him in the first place. 

JJ’s jaw flutters and he’s stunned silent. He looks really hurt and your heart is breaking because you’re the one who’s just hurt him. But then that hurt look is gone and it’s replaced by cold indifference. He rubs his chin. “I think I got it. So what? You’re just gonna let him use you and laugh about it with all his fuckin’ country club friends, cupcake? Is that what you want for yourself?” he’s pacing, tugging at his hair, he’s so frustrated he’s turning red all over. “I wanted it to be me and you, cupcake.”

“And yet, when I tell you how I really feel, your response is to ditch me. Leave me out of fucking everything. Make me think you fucking died? Make it make sense, JJ. Because it doesn’t. You can’t have us both, y’know..” you go quiet. “I’m goin’ inside. Some of us have to worry about an actual roof over our head and not when the next big adventure is coming. Just leave.. Please?”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere.” JJ’s standing full height, his back against the  door and his arms crossed over his chest. He’s staring down at you intently as everything falls to pieces and goes to shit all around him. You try to step around him, he blocks you from that way. You finally get so fed up that you throw your hands up in disgust. “What do you want, JJ? I told you what you asked for. If you don’t want the answer, maybe don’t ask the question.”

“I want you. I want everything t’ go back to the way it was.” and he’s quiet. You can look at him and tell this is killing him, you have tears stinging at your own eyes right now. But you start to think about the way he’s always played hot and cold, because now that you haven’t been spending every single second with him you’ve had your eyes open to a lot of things you had the blinders on about before and that in itself… was painful to realize.

“I don’t, though? Do you even care what I want JJ? Have you ever? Because I couldn’t keep being your little cupcake, alright? Watching you with everybody else but me. I got sick of it. I don’t want to go back to that and I’m not going to.”

“You don’t.. You can’t mean that. Cupcake, it wasn’t like that.” JJ is desperate for you to understand. To connect with you again.

He just wants you to feel what he’s feeling whenever he thinks about you, he wants you to understand exactly why he can’t just say it or act on it like you can..

But as he’s trying to put it to words, nothing else will come. “I was scared!” he throws up his hands. “I was scared that I’d let it happen, I’d let us happen and then it’d fuck up somehow.” his voice drops and he takes a few shaky breaths. Steps closer to you, effectively keeping you from going back inside the bar as he stares down at you. “He’s filling your head full of shit. And he’s using you. You’re smarter than this, cupcake. Think about it.. When do any of them really give a shit about any of us?” he can look at you and tell you’re not understanding it.

He laughs bitterly, “You’re always saying you don’t want to be your mom. This shit.. This is how it started with her, cupcake.” he swallows hard. Watches the way your eyes flash in anger when his words sink in. You step away and you’re glaring at him, seething. Almost shaking because you’re that angry. That hurt by the things he’s just said to you.

“He’s done nothing to me but treat me like a person. With thoughts and feelings? Not a possession.” you go quiet. Shoving at JJ when he steps up to you. “I’m not like her. I’m not. Didn’t you think I was scared? Did you not stop to think about that at all? But I took a risk.” you rub your forehead as you make yourself look up at him and shake your head. “I shouldn’t have. None of this would’ve ever happened. And so what if he’s gonna use me, JJ? So fucking what?”

“You don’t remember how he treated Sarah? She left cos he got too possessive.” JJ’s gazing down at you in concern.

“She left because she wanted somebody else at the time and we both know it, JJ. Don’t you dare start the bullshit. She left Topper because John B caught her attention. When she finds somebody else that catches her attention, she’ll probably leave John too.”

“Why are you defendin him? Don’t you remember the way he beat up Pope?”

“Oh, I do. But I’m not actually a Pogue, right? I mean.. You’ve always been so against me doing anything you guys do, no matter how much I wanted to help because you’re all my friends. You didn’t want me getting involved you don’t even like it when I hang out with all three of you together, I can just tell... So maybe I’m just standing back and looking at how damn stupid the whole  feud is to begin with.”

“Stupid, huh?” JJ rubs his chin and shakes his head. His stomach is churning even more now and there’s this bitterness creeping in. Because you would never have done all this before. You would’ve taken up for your side of the island. He’s so jealous of Topper right now because it’s starting to sink in. He’s going to lose you and he’s going to lose you to Topper Thornton, of all people, for good.

“I said what I said, JJ.” you sigh. Rub your forehead and take a few shaky breaths. “We’re done here. Go find your girlfriend, JJ. Go find the girl you chose. Be happy. Let me go.”

And you feel like you’ll throw up but you step past him and place your hand on the door in front of you.

“I love you. I always have.”

“No, JJ. No you don’t. You never did. I know that now.” 

Once you’re inside the bar again and out of sight, JJ breaks down completely. Picks up a garbage can and throws it and then he takes a swing at the wall. After he’s sat there about five minutes replaying everything back in his mind, he gets up and he leaves.

–

Last call is over and you are exhausted. Totally drained. Emotionally and physically. You make your way out of the bar and you start what you think will be your walk home only to have your shoulder tapped just as you make it past The Wreck.

You whirl around, glaring because you half expect it to be JJ. Or Kiara. Or even Sarah Cameron, surprisingly, she’s the only one who hasn’t bothered saying a damn thing about any of this to you yet. When you see Topper standing there, your glare softens and you go into his arms, melting against him. “I wanna go home.”

“Everything okay, love?” he’s got his hands on your hips and he’s gazing at you in concern. You bite your lip and shrug. “No worse than usual.”

“Was it JJ again?”

You swallow hard. He knows just by looking at you that yes, it was JJ again. And he clenches his fist. “I’m gonna kick his fucking head in.”

“Just leave him alone. I.. I think maybe he gets it this time. He kept pushing me so I told him.. About us?” and you’re scared to death saying it because you know that Topper could easily laugh. He could easily tell you that this is just sex, that he doesn’t care. He could easily prove every single thing JJ has been saying for weeks now correct.

So you’re so sure he’s going to do that, when he doesn’t, it catches you by total surprise. “How’d he take it?” Topper asks. Cringing a little because he kind of knows how the guy feels right now, the shoe was on the other foot not so long ago, with Sarah and John B.

“Pretty sure I heard him hit the door out behind the bar after I went inside.” you shrug. You’re just numb. Still processing the fight, total honesty. “We’re not coming back from this.” and you’re starting to tear up at the thought because now it’s finally hitting you. This isn’t just a fight. This is most likely the end. “He was my best friend.”

Topper pulls you against him, wrapping his arms around. “Shh. It’s okay.”

You’re sobbing harder and somewhere in the midst of it all, you start to ramble about exactly what JJ has been saying about him for weeks now and he pulls away to look down at you.

“Do you think that’s all this is?” Topper questions.

“Topper.. I don’t know.” you drop your shoulders, stare down at your ratty Converse. “Why would you wanna be with me?” it’s a simple question.

Topper takes a deep breath.

“I’m not using you. I’m not. And I don’t care how many times I have t’ say it, I’ll say it until you believe it.” he drags a thumb through inky mascara tear trails on your cheek and leans into you all over again. You breathe him in and start to relax a little. He feels you relax in his arms and chuckles quietly. “C’mon. Let’s get you back to your place, okay?”

You nod. Let him slip an arm around you and start to lead you over to his Jeep. Everything’s still raw, fresh in your mind and you’re reeling. One part of you knows you can trust Topper. But there’s that lingering fear that JJ’s right and he’s bored, using you because he wants to get over or get back at Sarah.

You shove the intrusive thought out. 

Because you’ve already got enough in your mind tonight. And you’d rather not be alone. When you’re with Topper, you’re not hurting, you’re not distracted by overthinking. And maybe, for now, that’s the way you need to leave it.

No labels. No bullshit. Just let go and lean into whatever comes next.

,,  he picked you. JJ didn’t. Just focus on that.” the thought comes and you let it linger.

[monstersdownthepath]

Lord of Lost Dreams: Shamira, Princess of the Porphyry City

CR 25

Chaotic Evil Medium Outsider

Adventure Path: Wrath of the Righteous: The Midnight Isles, pg. 74-75

This blazing Nascent Demon Lord is the closest thing to a friend that Nocticula has, serving as the ruler of the second-largest island among the Midnight Isles, Nocticula's Abyssal realm. It goes without saying that despite being one of the only creatures in existence that Nocticula values as a lover, companion, minion, enforcer, AND friend (rather than just one, or as multiple of them but sarcastically), the two demons are constantly keeping one another on their toes. The nature of the Abyss is fierce competition and rampant parasitism even among creatures who consider each other allies, after all. While Shamira will eventually become the ruler of the Midnight Isles and potentially ascend to full Demon Lord, this article is how she's portrayed in 1e as the Nascent Lord at Nocticula's side. Her greatest warrior, her shining star in the Abyss... and perhaps someone purposely hand-crafted as her eventual successor when she ascended.

While her future has been clearly revealed, Shamira's past is naught but smoke and ash, rumors and questions she does not answer but does not discourage. There are hints here and there that she was not always the burning succubus she is now, chief among them being her bizarre animosity towards Sarenrae and the powers she gains by slaying or corrupting the Dawnflower's followers. She has the power of Divine Deception, shielding her alignment from all forms of detection and instead causing her to read as the alignment of whatever deity she carries a holy symbol of. This ability lasts only 2d6 hours before the symbol crumbles to dust... UNLESS it's a symbol of Sarenrae, in which case it lasts 24 hours.

There's more to it than that, of course, but the greatest hint that there's something at play FAR worse than simple hatred for a specific goddess is Shamira's uncanny resemblance to Sarenrae's most common portrayal. One wonders who the father may have been. But we're not here to speculate on divine family trees, are we? We're here to see how badly the Abyss' own blazing angel can kick your ass!

It goes without saying that Shamira is more keen on avoiding fighting, much like her mistress. She prefers having minions and servants to roasted adventurers and extra scars, and if you're not careful, you may end up wrapped around her finger in as little as one round. Hope your Will saves are beefed up, because Shamira loves using her at-will Mass Suggestion and Charm Person to shape the party's actions before she ever even unveils herself from her disguise. She's even got Quickened Dominate Person at 3/day if she wants to skip having to make checks to manipulate the party with carefully worded spells altogether. As with many fiends of seduction and enchantment, the greatest obstacle in a battle with Shamira is getting to a battle in the first place without the party suddenly tearing each other apart!

She's no less dangerous from afar. Should she get any scrap of tissue or a belonging from one of the party, you can bet she'll be using her 1/day Nightmare to ruin their lives. Her Nightmare is vastly empowered from the standard spell thanks to her Dream Haunting, allowing her to combine her Energy Drain (2 levels) or ANY of her mind-affecting spells with it to harass her foes regardless of distance. What's worse (yet slightly amusing) is that her Energy Drain is also empowered, and she may cause any creature who suffers her drain to burst into flames for 8d6 Fire damage each round until they die or put themselves out. So even if a creature survives the 2 levels of drain, they may still die as they suddenly explode in their sleep! Hitting a vulnerable party member (or NPC ally) with this ability won't just ruin THEIR night, it may cause the party's whole base to go up in smoke! Fire spreads, after all.

There is another interesting power her Dream Haunting gives her, and that's her ability to use Profane Benediction from a distance. Like a lesser Succubus, Shamira can gift a willing mortal with a +4 to any one of their ability scores and establish a psychic link with them, letting her communicate telepathically across any distance and use Suggestion at-will on them. While any Succubus can give a buff to a willing mortal, Shamira is the only one who can do so from a distance if she needs to! Given her power to shapeshift and disguise her alignment perfectly, it's easy for the Ardent Dream to slowly manipulate and corrupt entire cities, one personal visit or bad dream at a time, victims rarely realizing they're being had. Worshipers of Sarenrae receiving this Benediction also gain immunity to Fire damage, and given Shamira's resemblance to the biggest and most famous goddess of the sun, unfortunate worshipers can be easily tricked into believing she's the real deal and fail to break out of her grip until she's corrupted them completely, or at least turned them into destructive fanatics.

Once the party has undone her scheme and fought past her minions, she's no less of a threat. Like many high-level Medium-sized foes, getting out of her reach makes her melee prowess plummet, but allowing her to Full-Attack you is a doozy: two wing attacks for 1d8+4 damage, two claws for 1d8+9, and a tail slap for 2d6+4 damage that attempts to Grab and Constrict creatures it hits for 2d6+13 more damage. ALL of her natural attacks inflict 4d6 Fire damage, and ALL of her natural attacks also inflict that lingering 8d6 burn damage if the victim fails even a single DC 38 Reflex save to avoid catching fire. She's also surrounded on all sides by a permanent Fire Shield, dealing 1d6+15 Fire damage to any creature that attacks her with a non-reach weapon, which very quickly adds up as there's no way to avoid it without using reach or ranged weapons!

But of course, a classy lady like Shamira wouldn't be caught dead dirtying her hands in melee, like some kind of idiot. No, she's a smaller version of her flighty, ranged-attack-loving boss in almost every way in that she's summoning demons as cover during Time Stop, but she adds some extra paused-time sauce by laying down her 3/day Empowered Delayed Blast Fireball as a fun prank for when time restarts. Then while your ears are still ringing from taking anywhere from effectively 30 to 90d6 points of Fire damage, she's up in the air with her Firebow, plinking away at your party as you deal with her summons and anyone she's taken command of with Dominate. She can create or dismiss her favored +5 Flaming Burst Unholy Composite Longbow at will as a swift action, so you can't disarm her or steal it, and she can fire it upwards to four times a round (five if she uses Rapid Shot, which she has no reason not to) for 1d8+14 + 1d6 Fire damage. Every arrow also inflicts her 8d6 burn damage just to keep up the DPS between rounds, and incentivizing her to spread the love around before focusing one target down.

You may be wondering by this time what her fire gimmick is, then. Every demigod of fire has one; Moloch deals Hellfire damage, Zelishkar deals half damage even to creatures immune to Fire, Chavazvug shuts off Fire Resistance/Immunity entirely, etc. In the case of this flaming succubus, her Fiery Passion allows her to bypass Fire Immunity and Fire Resistance entirely unless her target is completely immune to mind-affecting effects... which, in the case of players, means there's basically no way for them to avoid any of her fires, her Burn, or her spells (like her thus-far unmentioned 1/day Meteor Swarm). The wording is quite strict: it HAS to be complete immunity! Boosting saves with the likes of the reliable Mind Blank simply won't work. Other demigod-level creatures and, amusingly, fireproof Oozes and Vermin are typically safe from Shamira's Fiery Passion, but everyone else has to jump through hoops to avoid being burned.

Ironically this means Shamira herself isn't immune to her own Fire damage, because she's only immune to charms and compulsions, not mind-affecting effects in general. If you huck her Delayed Blast Fireballs back at her somehow or give her a hug while you're on fire from her Burn (WARNING: Do Not Do This, she has Fire Shield on constantly), she'll crisp herself. It's not likely to happen, but the fact it can happen at all is very, very funny to me.

You can read more about her here.

[ceruleancattail]

I actually have a shit ton of Ace’s big brother headcanons so I’m gonna go ahead and throw this in your inbox😫

Ok so first of all. I like to think he has a name that’s also related to Alice in wonderland so something like Hare or king or a Filipino name (Cause I’m a believer in the Filipino Ace headcanon) like Angelo or Lester. For now we’ll call him K.

First thing’s first, this guy was a straight A student even though he was a slacker and didn’t like doing shit. But when he studied he *studied*. the first time he spoke to Sam he actually needed something from him so he was lying out of his ass the whole time(Sam found this out when he was Senior and was lowkey impressed and annoyed). He has three pictures of Ace in his wallet, one when he was a toddler one a child and one now. When he found out Ace was going to NRC he threw a small party, only inviting close friends and family. He’s in and out of relationships every other month, longest one he’s been in lasted a year(everyone was surprised). Continuing the last point, that relationship was with Sebeks brother, they’re still friends and talk regularly though. Trein was and still is his favorite teacher, and even though he doesn’t show it Trein likes him a lot. He was the one to create the board game club because “the other clubs are so boring”. When he was around 18 he got a tattoo of an Ace Of Hearts because Ace. His home screen is an old family photo with his parents and Ace and the inside is his with Sam and Sebeks brother. Speaking of Sebeks brother, they always talk about their brothers together. The housewarden of Pomfiore when he was in his 2-4th year has a huge crush on him and hated the fact that he didn’t like him back(K was and still is an oblivious dumbass). He flirts without realizing he’s flirting. Can hold his liquor, doesn’t like drinking. Smokes every now and then (nothing heavy don’t worry). Was a mechanical engineer major and now works in an amusement park(this one is true, he does in fact work there in canon). His best subject was potions, but he always had “beef” with Crewel(friendly fighting). Was supposed to be the vice-housewarden but he didn’t want to deal with all that responsibility. Was a model for a few years. While Ace looks more like his mom K looks more like his dad, but they still resemble her more. ✨dimples✨. He sounds a bit like Howl from howls moving Castle. While he loves annoying Ace more than everything ever, if he ever called K he would drop everything to make sure he’s alright.

And uh yeah, that’s all I can think about at this time!!

THE FACT HE CARRIES ACE’S PHOTOS AROUND IS KINDA CUTE LMAO. You see this cool guy until his brother somehow gets mentioned in conversation and he’s immediately brightening and showing you all the photos… I think that’s so cute-

I need that brain tbh… K being insane at tests😔 we love him being on good terms with his exs tho!!!! Hehe. Trien the big ol’ softie

Board game club founder- he has my respect. As a TCG lover amen🙏

Noooo him being a flirt and not realising it- pain heiwjwjwj- omg amusement park worker…. Imagine going on a date with him and he brings you to the amusement park at night when it’s closed so it’s just for both of you….

He’s just such a guy oh my gods…. Also Cecile you put in so much thought into this holy- shensjejeh AHAHAHAH thank you for sharing your thoughts on this silly!!!! It was a super fun read

[val-made-a-mistake]

❝the garrison rat❞ CHP 14

THE FINAL CHAPTER

previous

summary: torn apart by an unexpected loss, you find yourself unable to leave birmingham. you’re aware that people notice you drinking in the garrison every other night, you’re aware they call you nicknames, but you don’t care about any of it— at least, not until you start speaking to john shelby. he’s looking for a wife and you vowed to never love again, which makes things a bit complicated.

warnings: smut, cocaine usage, infidelity, angst, brief mention of prostitution...if you’ve made it this far you’re probably not going to be surprised by anything in this chapter

word count: 5.6k

tag list: @datewithgianni @1950schick @clementinesjourney @cbouvier23@smailaway @cedricscoffin @buckysjuicyplums @belledawnidk @wandering-poetess @bobafett-tea​ @esposadomd​ 

a/n: holy shit, where do i even start??? it’s hard to believe that a one-shot turned fic series i only wrote as a distraction because i was mad that my movie date got cancelled got here today. thank you all for the support since september 2021, because the amount of people who have enjoyed this series and keysmashed over it and dmed me to say that they stayed up all night reading it is crazy, you guys blew me tf away. i’m kissing you all five times and doing the Hand Squeeze™ with everyone who has supported me over the past five hundred something days TGR has existed. i would gladly make plans to run away to paris with you. :)

//////

“Are you running away? Because it really looks like you’re running away.”

Your suitcase shut with a sharp SNAP. “It’s only temporary. And you keep your mouth shut about this, you hear me?”

Esme held up her hands like you were pointing a gun at her. “Okay, okay, I just really don’t think this is a good idea.”

“It’s only temporary,” you muttered to yourself, preoccupied again as you shoved another cigarette into your mouth, your fifth of the evening. You were refusing to voice your thoughts aloud: you were already thinking about finding a new place to be from. “London’s not that far away from here, is it?”

“You have no family in London, and no friends,” Esme replied. “Y/N, just stop packing the goddamn suitcase.”

You snorted as you lit your cigarette. “It’s funny how no one around here gets that there’s a whole world outside of Small Heath.”

“Yeah, and there’s a whole world of rock bottoms outside of Small Heath,” Esme shot back, flat and unconvinced. “You gravitate towards shitholes, y’know. You’re only just gonna make life worse for yourself all over again.”

“I need to get out of here,” you repeated stubbornly, exhaling a thin plume of smoke. “For just a week.”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, this is going to go terribly,” Esme muttered under her breath, absently pouring a miniscule amount of the powdery white substance she had in a tiny vial onto her knuckle. “How are you not thinkin’ of the kids? Fuckin’ four of them and John still doesn’t know how to take care of them.”

You barely heard her; you were staring at the vial of cocaine.

You almost hesitated, but pointed at the table. “Bring it over here.”

Esme gave you a weird look, and there was a tense beat that made you think she wasn’t going to do it, but she pressed her knuckle to her nostril and sniffed with barely a flinch, then poured out a jagged line for you on the table behind her.

“Y/N, I…”

“It’s fine.”

You were already searching your back pockets for a bill, or some kind of thin object that could be rolled into a cylinder.

It didn’t feel good to do it, but one last time couldn’t hurt, right? You were a changed woman now, and you could control yourself - no matter how badly you wanted just another line, like you already knew you would.

Your freshly lit cigarette still burning between your two fingers, you rolled up the bill into a tight cylinder with the precision of someone who had done it hundreds of times before, leaned over the desk, and sniffed up a thin line of cocaine.

Like always, it hit you all at once, like a bolt of lightning. Oh, God.

And then everything became clear.

If there was one think you knew, it was that you were getting out of Small Heath tonight.

“Barely hit,” you muttered, looking up at Esme with dilated eyes. “Can I see the vial, please?”

//////

John was deep in the forest again, his bare feet caked in mud and moss and leaves, and he was going out of his mind with want.

“I miss you,” Martha purred like some long-lost, ethereal creature, and her cold, dainty hand glided around his shoulder. She had been circling him for the past ten minutes and yet her footsteps made no noise - she was pure magic, that woman was, and she smelled something sweet, like pound cake. Dizzy in her presence, John blinked hard as something in the depths of his mind purred happily, something primal and hidden blossoming to life, making him feel everything.

She was in her dress that she had worn to her wedding, the brilliant purple-pink wildflowers were braided into her hair like not a day had gone by, and John forgot that those flowers were actually dried and pressed into some obsolete book in the betting shop in the Parlour.

“Do you miss me?” she whispered, her cold hand on his other shoulder now, and John felt the skin there erupt into gooseflesh.

Martha sidestepped quickly, mystically as ever, and suddenly she was in front of him again. She had asked him a question, and he hadn’t answered.

Her hazel eyes glowed so brilliantly and ethereally that he was sure she made his blue Shelby eyes look hazel too, and he had to pause for a moment to take in her glittering beauty, her fair and freckled skin, her thin lips that had somehow been an insecurity of hers when she’d been alive, like they somehow hadn’t fit perfectly on her face and John hadn’t wanted to kiss them whenever he stared at them for too long.

John knew that he had opened his mouth to say something, but he wasn’t quite sure what had happened: either the words had come out as though he was underwater, a distorted, gibberish mess, or he had simply opened his mouth and not said anything at all.

He was suddenly aware of his heart pounding harder in his chest, and he tried to say, I do, I do, I do, but for some reason, the words couldn’t force their way past his lips.

“Clearly not, since you’re with that rat bitch,” Martha snarled, and it suddenly dawned on him that this wasn’t reality at all, not a lovely dream but a nightmare, and he started breathing hard until he was nearly hyperventilating, something like a panic attack settling in.

“No,” John tried to say, but his throat had closed off and he felt like he was screaming underwater. No. No. No.

This wasn’t the first time he’d felt something like this because he suffered from the soldier’s disease, but just because it was the hundredth time he’d experienced it didn’t mean it got any less terrifying. There was a whirlwind in his brain, a headrush so powerful like everything was incoherent, unreal, and he couldn’t– fucking– breathe—

“Kitchen towels!” Polly shouted from somewhere afar, scaring him awake. “For fuck’s sake, John, where are the bloody kitchen towels?”

John launched himself out of his chair and looked around: Polly wasn’t in his office, where he’d been sleeping for the past several weeks, but she was still shouting loud enough to be heard in the betting shop, so he straightened his cap and smoothed his rumpled suit like he hadn’t been asleep at all and hurried out of the door.

It’s too bloody early for this, he thought angrily.

When John got to the kitchen with the roll of kitchen towels from the betting shop, the first thing he noticed wasn’t Polly hurrying around with a broom, clearly agitated, or a cup of tea overturned everywhere on the kitchen’s pristine tile, but Esme standing in the open doorway of the Parlour, breathing hard, looking pale and panicked. He checked his watch. 6 AM. It was the middle of February; the sun hadn’t even risen yet. What the hell was going on?

He took another look at Polly, the cup of tea shattered on the floor, and Esme, his head swiveling back and forth between them like he was watching a ping-pong match. “Fucking hell, you lot, what’s the matter?”

His voice was groggy and dehydrated, but he blinked hard and tried to ignore it.

You’re awake. You’re awake. You’re awake.

“Y/N is fuckin’ missing, that’s the matter,” Polly snapped, venom seeping through her voice as she snatched the kitchen roll from his hands to clean up the mess of liquid and ceramic shards on the floor, “Esme here storms in at six o’clock in the bloody morning, tellin’ me all fuckin’ panicked that she woke up at the Lee house down the street and Y/N wasn’t there when she was spendin’ the night, and she was goin’ on about how she wanted to leave Small Heath before she fell asleep…”

A fresh round of cold, unsettling panic doused John, and seeing the darkening look on his face, Esme grimaced sympathetically at him. “A part of me thought she was joking, I tried to talk her out of it. I’m sorry, John.”

“Well, what’s done is done,” Polly snapped with the air that she was only becoming more pissed with every word Esme spoke, and straightening, she slammed the roll of towels on the counter and chucked the shards of ceramic into the garbage. “Gather Arthur and Tommy, we need to have the Blinders looking for her. The earlier we can find her, the better.”

He nodded.

“Arthur!” he bellowed down the hallway, without a care in the world for his kids or anyone else. “Get the fuck up!”

//////

Understandably, there were no trains running at three in the morning, the time you’d left a sleeping Esme at the Lee house on Watery Lane, so you simply shifted your bag higher on your shoulder and decided to find another place in Small Heath to camp out until the sunrise.

Still on your cocaine high, you refused to look at your reflection in the windows of the shopfronts you passed. You already felt disheveled and bloodshot, you didn’t need to see it.

Eventually, you settled on an alleyway some three blocks away from the station. You pressed your back against the wall and slid down it until you were sitting on the damp stretch of dirt, dead grass, and litter.

You moved your bag from your shoulder to your lap and inhaled sharply: if you were aware of your body for too long, the cocaine pain in your ribs made you feel like your entire body was on fire. You had a small bottle of vodka in your suitcase to ration, and you’d feel even better after a few burning gulps from the bottle, but you resolved not to start drinking at least until you got on the train.

The cocaine high would have to be enough for now, you decided.

You sighed as your head suddenly spun, and the hazy feeling of unreality settled deep into your chest, making your heart pound harder and harder until sweat was dampening the back of your neck. Your brain was throbbing hard, but euphoria pulsed through your entire body, and for that feeling alone, it was worth it.

God, cocaine was terrible, but simultaneously beautiful. You’d almost missed it.

Sure, you definitely hadn’t missed always feeling like you were on the verge of fainting, nor the aching and the itchiness and the cold liquid that seemed to bubble in your veins after you came down from your high, indicating that you were sober again, but whatever, it was three in the morning in a shitty corner of England, you were alone and staring up at the glinting stars in the sky, inhaling the ever-present scent of manure and cigarette smoke, and your cocaine-fucked brain promptly decided that nothing else mattered but this moment.

The year is 1920, you thought dumbly, in that same blearily existential way only someone who was extremely high could. Will people still appreciate the Earth’s beauty a hundred years from now?

You probably wouldn’t be around to see it, but you hoped they did, and you squinted up at the sky to scope out any possible constellations. You’d never had a chance to notice it before, but this was a Nevada kind of view, which made you think of a moment five years earlier where you were lying in the great expanse of desert beneath the stars, watching Sam’s chest slowly rise and fall as he slept, swiping at the mosquitos whenever they got too close.

You weren’t all that aware of it, but your entire face stretched into a tired smile, making your cheeks ache. Goddamn, I love cocaine.

The next moments passed in a blink: suddenly the sun was rising, and you were at the station again, and you couldn’t remember how you’d gotten a ticket in your hands but you were already carrying your things onto the train, and vaguely acting sober, you stumbled into the first empty carriage you saw, all while your body didn’t feel like your own and you were simply a spectator to your own activities.

Which, honestly, you preferred. You had no fucking time to regret any of this.

//////

“Y/N?” John shouted, shining a flashlight down the long, empty hallway of the old Lee house. He’d stomped in there the minute the car had rolled into the field, so fast and panicked that he hadn’t even bothered to turn on the lights, meaning the house was shrouded in darkness. “Y/N!”

“Are you absolutely sure you didn’t see her at the train station?” he heard Esme snap at some Blinder waiting outside.

“Why would I lie for the fuckin’ Garrison rat?” John heard him reply before he stepped out of range, and scowling, he burst into the bedroom Esme had said you’d slept in days ago.

It was stripped bare, not even your scent had been left behind, like you’d never been inside the room in the first place, which only made the dread crawling down his back worse.

You’re a fucking knobhead, John scolded himself, pivoting on his heel to exit the room. A fucking knobhead, you know that? What kind of husband has their wife walk out on them?

Regretting his excessive drinking and smoking, sleeping in his office, booking his favourite whore at Zhang’s, and avoiding his wife like the plague, John ran back onto the field with his knuckles aching to kill something.

He took his cap off to smooth his hair back. “She’s not there.”

“‘Course she’s not,” Esme said resignedly.

“Where the fuck would she had gone?” John shouted at her, resisting the urge to grab her and violently shake her, purely to keep the peace between the families. “Esme, did she tell you any place that she was wanting to go?”

Esme opened her mouth and closed it.

“London,” she whispered back, her eyes wide. “She told me she wanted to go to London.”

“London!” he yelled in disbelief, whipping around. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“The trains start early in the morning,” she bit out, twisting her hands together. The Blinder beside her was staring at her, wide-eyed, as though trying to find a way to insert himself into the conversation, but both she and John ignored him. “John, if we can’t find her, that means she already went.”

Unadulterated rage swept through him, bitter and blinding, but John choked it down. “Fuck.”

Ducking out of the way so they wouldn’t see his glossy eyes, he started to stomp away. “Get back in the fucking car.”

//////

London was sprawling and gleaming when the train noisily rolled into the station, and in your threadbare, dirt-stained skirt and cardigan, you felt like you weren’t expensive-looking enough to fit in.

No matter, you told yourself, but the voice in your head was much too pleasant and lacking the predisposed anxiety and misery to truly sound like yourself. You can simply buy new clothes.

Plus, you already knew you weren’t planning on staying in London for long anyway.

You hummed a quiet but hopeful folk song you’d first heard at the Garrison to yourself as you retrieved your things from the compartment, your heart already pounding hard with excitement at the thought of leaving the train. As you hummed out what little lyrics you could remember, a pang of sadness hit your gut for the first time since you’d snorted cocaine: you’d miss Grace, but you were happy her beautiful voice had become engraved in your memory.

Her voice was yours to keep forever.

Smiling, you carried your bags through the narrow hallway and descended the train.

And sweet Jesus, the air of London smelled like the most refreshing summer breeze simply because of the absence of manure and furnace smoke. The station was still overcrowded with people, which normally would have alarmed you had you been sober, but this time you didn’t even care, it almost felt like you had snorted another few lines of cocaine as you waded through the onslaught of people, a dumb grin plastered on your face.

Girl, you are high as balls.

You caught sight of a husband waiting at the gate with a bouquet of flowers for his approaching wife, and quickly glanced away. You didn’t need anything like that to bother you right now.

“Airport?” you asked aimlessly to the people around you. “Does anyone know how to get to the airport from here?”

After a minute or two of wandering around and shouting among the onslaught of people, a man not much older than Tommy Shelby finally turned around.

“Airport?” he asked, squinting down at you. “You’ll need to go to Croydon.”

“Where is that?” you asked sweetly, layering on the Americana glitter in your charming Garrison rat voice, batting your eyelids at him. “It’s my first time in London, you see.”

The man smiled and extended his hand. “I can take you there, miss, for a fee. I’ll carry your things for you.”

“How much quid?” you asked absent-mindedly, peering down into your bag to find your change. “I can give you, uh, maybe twenty-”

“I’m not talking about money,” he cut in, and your head snapped up like a deer in headlights. How dare he, knowing that you had a very expensive wedding ring glistening on your fing–

You stopped yourself.

You weren’t wearing your wedding ring.

It was rolling around somewhere in the depths of your bag.

Time seemed to slow down and your heart pounded even faster, cocaine influence or not, but what shocked you the most was the odd sense of relief, making the ugly scar stretching across the length of your abdomen tingle.

Men still desired you.

With your head slightly spinning and the residue feeling of your body not being your own anymore, it was the most chilling reminder that you weren’t sober: you suspected that in any other state of mind, you would feel differently about this, but right now you didn’t care.

Wasn’t the whole point of coming to London that you didn’t want to feel chained by the Shelbys anymore?

“Take me there,” you heard yourself say after what felt like a century, and the man’s grin widened. “Of course, ma’am.”

Please protect me, God, a voice whispered in the depths of your mind, and accepting his outstretched hand, you let him guide you out of your train station.

//////

Tommy Shelby pushed the heavy mahogany doors of the Garrison open with a flourish, stepped into the pub, and promptly bellowed at the top of his lungs, “Everybody out!”

It had been bad enough losing his own love to a mind-boggingly similar situation two months ago, but Christ, how likely was it for John boy to go through the same goddamned thing? He wasn’t sure if he was impressed or annoyed. What had gotten into the women of today? Was this something he seriously had to be worried about?

The few number of patrons at 11 AM on a Wednesday morning quickly made themselves scarce with a frightened look on their faces, and for the first time that morning, Tommy had a chance to sigh before he approached the confused and frightened barmaids behind the bar.

After Grace, he felt a deep inner hatred more intensely than he had before her, and this morning was no exception.

“Have you seen Y/N Lee around these parts in the past few weeks, ladies? Y/N Shelby? The Garrison rat?”

The two barmaids looked at each other, puzzled, and one opened her mouth but promptly closed it.

“You,” Tommy said, pouncing on her. “Did you see the Garrison rat at all?”

“I…uh….” she stuttered, and Tommy cocked his head in anticipation for her words. Where was the easy grace that all of the barmaids seemed to have whenever a Blinder visited? “I…”

The barmaid gulped and stared at the floor. “She came in here once, lookin’ like a mess, and said she was getting out of here that night.”

“What kind of mess was she?” he pressed, leaning forward. “Drunk? Sniffing snow?”

“She - she was covered in blood,” the barmaid choked out, and he recognized the telltale signs of an anxiety attack as she started shaking. “Covered in blood. And vomit. And dirt. And twigs. And she had this…crazed look in her eyes. None of the drunks have it, so I knew she wasn’t drunk. She meant what she was saying with a burning passion. She wanted somebody dead.”

Tommy thought back to the night that pathetic boy was killed, the way he’d wailed and screamed and cried as John pummelled him. It had been a real mess when you’d ran off like that, and there was no signs that you’d even been bothered until before then.

He eyed the other barmaid, who was pale as a ghost.

“Go make a drink for your friend,” he told her. “Ma’am, what’s your name?”

“Edith,” the sniffling barmaid replied, staring at the floor.

“Edith,” Tommy repeated. “Well, Edith, thank you for your time, but I’m afraid that the Garrison rat has fulfilled her promise as of this morning.”

With a haunting sort of finality, he replaced his cap and turned on his heel to exit the Garrison.

//////

“Fuck!”

Before John could stop it, a long, frustrated, angry scream ripped out of his throat, and it was so loud within the confined space of his office that it made his own ears ring. He was the only one here now, and it had been that way for an hour: the rest of the family had gone out looking for his wife.

His vision suddenly blurry with tears, he punched his desk over and over again, screaming at the top of his lungs, his hands stinging, his heart pounding, everything spiralling out of control at once. All of his emotions had been pushed as far as they could possibly go ever since he woke up, and at 4 PM in the afternoon, this was the only opportunity he’d had to let them out.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

John felt blood trickling down his knuckles and he finally stopped, cursing, hating himself. Why did he have to be like this? He would feel nothing but indifference for weeks on end until it all came rushing out of him like an avalanche.

Well, some part of him knew this explosion was warranted. It was forever frustrating being back to square one: without a wife, without a stepmother to take care of his kids, without love and painfully aware that he was without Martha. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d felt it, but it was the first time the feeling seared through his chest like a volcano erupting: he’d wished he’d never had kids.

“Why am I so stupid?” John shouted at himself in the thick silence. “Fucking hell, why am I so fucking stupid?”

Get it out, some type of comforting voice told him in the back of his head. Get it all fucking out.

His knuckles were pouring blood now, screaming for bandages, but John leapt from his chair and shoved everything off his desk in a giant sweep.

He picked up an empty vase behind him and threw it as hard as he could at the wall, where it exploded in a shower of glass.

He ripped open all the cabinets of his desk and yanked out all of the files, lobbing them at the wall, throwing them on the ground, tearing them in half, and when that wasn’t enough, he lifted his office chair and pounded it into the ground as violently as he could.

“Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!”

He couldn’t even remember when he’d started screaming anymore, but his throat was raw as he lobbed the splintered, broken pieces of the chair at the wall.

His hands were covered in blood, and he had a sobering feeling that maybe he should stop now, but no matter how self-destructive he was being, the rage was addicting, and he was throwing various detritus from the wreckage as hard as he could at the wall. The rush of pain flooding to his knuckles was almost gratifying— thank God, he could still feel things. Even if he was feeling too much, he was feeling, and that was good.

Tears were streaming down his face, and when he tried to inhale through his nose, his nostrils were blocked with snot, but he couldn’t stop. His entire face was red from overexertion and his hands were bleeding and he couldn’t stop shaking and he couldntfuckingbreathe, like he was a little kid throwing a tantrum, and—

If his throat was raw when he’d had the energy to destroy things, it was nothing like how it felt now. “Fuck!”

Maybe this is how Y/N felt when she saw me kill that monarchist fucker, John thought dumbly, and he sank to his knees in his demolished mess of an office, a tide of regret crashing through him unlike anything before.

This feeling hit him like it was trying to kill him.

//////

The car was parked in the parking lot of the airport, and it hadn’t moved for the past ten minutes.

It was cramped, uncomfortable, and questionably damp, but the man who’d driven you there-- Billy, you’d since learned his name was--  wouldn’t buy the plane ticket for you until you gave him your payment, and you had nothing left to lose. With Paris being a hefty cheque away, a daring trip that you could just barely afford, you had weighed your options and promptly decided fuck it, just get it over with.

Without breaking eye contact with him, you licked a thick stripe up the underside of his length before pulling back to suck the tip, darting your tongue around it, producing the filthiest slurping sounds he’d ever heard as you bobbed around him. He wasn’t longer than John, but a little thicker, and it was an interesting change to feel how his cock felt in your mouth.

“Fuck,” Billy murmured, weaving a hand through your hair as you swiped his cock over your wet lips, teasing it over your warm mouth, smearing your red lipstick further down your chin. “Fuck, just like that - gonna - fuck-”

He came fast with barely a warning, warm droplets of come spilling onto your tongue. Knowing you were almost done, you wrapped a hand around his length to jerk him off, gulping him down as best you could while he kept his hand tight in your hair, ensuring that you swallowed every last bit.

Saltier, you noted. Well, that’s a bit disgusting.

//////

He had her on her back so he wouldn’t have to look at her, but it was still so hard to pretend that she was someone else: the dark curly hair spilling over her shoulders that looked nothing like her hair, the breathy little moans that fell from her lips that sounded nothing like hers, even the way her pussy squeezed his cock, they were all dead giveaways that she wasn’t who John desperately wanted her to be. And no matter how hard he tried, she wouldn’t be.

“Oh, God,” Esme moaned, grabbing the headboard to keep herself from falling over as John fucked into her just a little bit harder, and his hand was wrapped around her neck before he even registered it being there.

“Shut up.”

She wasn’t listening.

“Fuck, John, I’m gonna-” –With one hand on the headboard, she was furiously rubbing her clit now– “I think I’m gonna - oh fuck -”

She collapsed from underneath him as her orgasm rushed through her body, but in a split-second he’d yanked her upright by her hair, back to her original position, except her arms were pinned behind her back.

This was about control.

Fucking her even harder now, his voice was furious in her ear as he whispered:

“Next time you come, you’re gonna ask for my permission, yeah?”

//////

Paris was golden.

Golden and full of pickpockets, that was for sure. The one drawback of such a fashionable, progressive city, you had to keep a tight hold on your purse as you made your way to the closest bar, or the bar à cocktails, as you frequently heard the locals call it.

Three months into living in Paris, you fit right in with the people born and raised here: they tended to go all out in comparison to Birmingham, their wardrobes were fashionable, flashy, and fancy to the point where a floor-length dress, your most expensive pearl necklace, and a glittery headband had become your drinking attire. You couldn’t imagine the stares had you worn the Garrison rat’s usual outfit of trousers and a blouse anywhere in Paris. 

So, when it came down to it, you didn’t mind being bold, not at all. It was the années folles, after all, and life was good.

The same way British slang had slowly seeped into your vocabulary when you were an American trapped in Birmingham, your accent was starting to change the longer you stayed in Paris. Words like “quid” and “fucking hell” were slowly starting to disappear in your internal monologue, instead being replaced with “franc” and “merde”. Eventually, your American accent wrapped around the French words you spoke with a kind of ease, your thoughts came to you in French more than they did in English, and it dawned on you one day that you couldn’t have imitated the sweetness of the Garrison rat’s voice if you tried.

Honestly, you couldn’t care less. Maybe it was for the better.

You gently pushed open the glass door to the bar and, smoothing your dress, walked inside.

Lilting jazz, warm golden light, quiet conversation, respectful barmaids, a wide array of bottles at the bar, and best of all, sparsely populated. You loved coming to this place— you were already a couple of shots in, of course, but you enjoyed the French stuff.

You carefully sat down on your usual barstool to the left of the barmaid and calmly told her, “Comme d’habitude.”

She nodded without looking at you, emotionless. “Pas de problème.”

You settled back onto the stool, content to think about nothing for a moment as your drink was being made, but you sensed him approaching you before you saw him. Even though you had to tell yourself that you weren’t the Garrison rat anymore, that mysterious charm hadn’t been lost on the men of Paris, clearly.

The new man— dark hair, gray eyes, nothing remarkable — sat on the stool to your direct left, with the kind of forced confidence that immediately told you he had to practice it before coming over to sit with you, and you refused to look at him.

The barmaid slid a shot over to you, and the mysterious new man held up his hand, as though to intercept you from paying. “Je vais le payer.”

Looking anywhere but his face, you didn’t stop him as he handed over a fistful of coins to the barmaid.

Why should you? It was free drinks. That was welcomed in Las Vegas, New York City, Small Heath, and Paris.

As the barmaid walked away to attend to a new customer, his attention was on you now.

“Vous venez souvent dans ce bar.”

It was a statement, not a question. You looked at him, your face completely blank, and said nothing.

He smirked at you. “Vous aimez cette musique, oui? Le jazz est toujours beau. Bon pour danser.”

When you still said nothing, growing slightly frustrated now, he asked, “Quelle est votre histoire?”

You scoffed, and finally decided to speak.

“C’est une longue histoire. Une trop longue histoire. La seule chose que je sais, c’est que je ne tomberai plus jamais en amour, donc si vous pensez m’inviter à danser, n’essaie pas.”

The man looked at you for a long moment, before getting up from the stool and walking away— wordless, the kind of complicated look on his face that you didn’t understand. And it pissed you off, really, not understanding why he had the audacity to look hurt.

With the drunken blurriness of your vision, as the man retreated into the distance, his silhouette seemed to be absorbed by the gleaming, golden light, and you let out a low sigh of relief as you were left alone again. Alone with your thoughts.

You turned back to the bar and found yourself lost in the murky depths of your drink that he’d paid for. Through the haze, you blearily noticed that you’d started thinking in English again. Blunt and short sentences, but still: English.

I’m never going to love again.

//////

AUGUST 1920 - SMALL HEATH, BIRMINGHAM

I’m never going to love again, thought John as he stared moodily across the length of the merry Garrison. Grace may not have been there anymore, but the roaring folk songs every night had remained in her memory, and someone had clearly written a new one for the drunks to sing.

The only person there that wasn’t singing, John couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He wasn’t in the mood to act as though there weren’t any horribly-concealed glances in his direction every few minutes. Though, as time went on, they were becoming lesser and lesser, the Garrison rat was disappearing into a mythical woman that belonged to the folklore of Small Heath. Honestly, in the months without her, sometimes it was hard to believe that she had ever truly lived.

The song roared on.

“Oh, the Garrison rat, the Garrison rat, she left at twilight and we haven’t seen her since that…”

[deadwright]

hey!! sorry to bother but I was wondering if you have read any steddie fics at all or that you enjoyed..... I am very afraid of going into the tag without guidance and wanted to ask if you have any recs (I follow very little people in the fandom) !! :o) thank u anyways hope u have a good day

hello bestie! you're so right tbh i'm fighting for my life in this tag, but here are all the steddie fics that i really like so far (under the cut):

You Children Of Today (Are Children of the Grave) by CaptainHoney (E)

Fall Forever (and Never Look Behind) by CaptainHoney (E)

aka @grandmastattoo: chief steddie understander and purveyor of incredible fics and playlists. this series is my top favourite ever!!!!!

Promethean by CaptainHoney (E)

the tags say dead dove do not eat but boy did i FEAST

Whole Lotta Love by stereobone (E)

one of my favourite writers, all their fics are fantastic. speaking of:

Keep It for Me by stereobone (E)

i'm going to blame the full sobbing wailing breakdown i had over this on the fact that my wedding is also coming up, but who's going to believe me? certainly not me.

Some Things Cosmic by stereobone (E)

this got me in my feelings so bad oh my GOD i would do anything to make this real

Play It Right by stereobone (E)

every little character detail of this is just. i could chefs kiss until my fingers bleed about it all.

You're the Driver, You're the Road by stereobone (E)

Are You Flagging? by soidade (E)

one of the most popular steddie fics on ao3, if not thee most

stereoscope by seraphy (E)

just finished this one and woof! heavy on the delicious steve angst. i love when stranger things fics dive into the endless trauma so this one got me good.

make a deal with god by mcalpines (T)

SO very funny, one of my favourites ever!

Easy, Easy, Easy by judasofsuburbia (E)

what can i say, i adore a deeply comforting happily-ever-after future fic.

misgiven by palmviolet (T)

another good stranger things writer, their current wip has me hooked (more on that later)

Mutual Future by knell (E)

another funny one! i love when men are stupid <3

The Worst Mixtape Ever Made by nbfutureboy (M)

songfics can be so hit or miss, and this is an absolute hit. embarrassing for me that i genuinely love all the songs on the titular mixtape though.

Lovesick in Loch Nora by red0aktree (M)

this is beyond my wildest dreams. i laughed, i sobbed, i screamed myself hoarse with sheer feeling. GOD. IT'S SO GOOD PLEASE I'M A WRECK

A Sign of The Morning by ToEdenandBackAgain (M)

full of delicious steve whump and obliviousness in spades. also the reference letter part made me WAIL with joy

the summer of '85 series by ToEdenandBackAgain (T)

horniest T rated fic i ever did read but steve in that little sailor outfit was truly life-changing. also feeling vindicated as a mint chip appreciator

don't start (too late) by Ark (E)

AIYAAAAAA THEY'RE SO SWEET AND IN LOVE. also absolutely cemented my belief that steve harrington was born to suck and fuck

meet me in the middle of the air by kirkaut (T)

it's a wip with one chapter up as i'm posting this but holy shit i love it so far. everyone sounds like they're supposed to and i canNOT resist steve whump, it's like ambrosia to me

to live my own way by Macellarius (E)

this is exactly how the the rest of the show should've gone. duffers LET HIM GRADUATE GODDAMMIT

STRIKE TEN. by oaseas (T)

me handshake emoji eddie since our shared toxic trait is letting steve get away with anything just because he looks so cute in his little sailor outfit

smoking guns (hot to the touch) by fivecenturiesverse (T)

did not expect to start weeping about the power of friendship at 2pm on a workday but damn this really got my ass. love in all its forms is so good ;-;

Some Cupids Kill With Dice by horrormoviebarbie (T)

this fic makes me want to put on a slutty little outfit and run through the streets screaming about it like a town crier. young dilf steve/teacher eddie MOST concept of all time. all this to say that it made me feral and though it's a wip i'm already rereading it weekly

the most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway is that it's you by greatunironic (E)

i need you all to known that i actually screamed and cried so hard that i yartzed while reading this. a stunning rollercoaster of emotions, and the perfect end that i will carry with me further than canon could ever hope to go.

We are Stardust, We are Golden by idiopathicsmile (M)

between steve's insistence that simon and garfunkel are in love and him casually knowing the lyrics to a black sabbath song, this fic really is the Try Not To Fall In Love With Steve Challenge (EXTREME MODE)

I Made A Fire by emchant3d (E)

YOWWW 🔥🥵

fear is fading fast by amiparanoidmuch/p1013 (E)

funny, hot, absolutely STELLAR fic that make me yell and squawk into my pillow every few lines. WHERE is robin's milkshake for outstanding wingmanning

Lunge to the Maximum by BoudicaMuse (E)

a truly EXCELLENT pwp feat. the scoops ahoy uniform? hey now hey nooow this is what DREEEEAMS are made of

The Road Goes Ever On by bookscorpion (E)

road trip! wip but it's already lovely, with that slow, nostalgic americana vibe.

The Shire is NOT on Fire by kissesforcas (E)

not since supernatural 8x11 larp and the real girl have i cared this much about a renfaire. steve and robin giving huge dean and charlie energy (deeply affectionate)

Have I Found You, Flightless Bird? by kissmejusttokissme (M)

TWILIGHT AU!!!! BUT BETTER!!!!! AN ABSOLUTE TREAT

Red Eye by alinafewwords (T)

obligatory coffee shop au but make it genuinely good!!! wip as i type this but i'm already so unbelievably excited for the updates

Do You Mind? (will you mind?) by GreenQueenofClubs (E)

absolute concept of all time. this fic was so good it scrambled MY brain and it took me an embarrassingly long time to even type this coherently

Sanctuary by SpicedSage (E)

very very cute, absolutely nailed the eddie voice

throw me one by Adure (E)

men are so stupid uwu

Paper Thin by idiotslantern (E)

oh i YELLED out loud when-

like a heartbeat drives you mad by creature_from_the (E)

deeply hot and so good i wish i could read 100k more of it

We Should Just Kiss (Like Real People Do) by OonionChiver (E)

sweet baby jesus and the grown one too...........it's a LOT but woof what a journey. heed the tags on this one fr

STEVE'S FIRST BRUISE by cairparavels (not rated)

spidey!steve is maybe the best thing to happen to me this year

I've seen your face before, my friend, but I don't know if you know who I am by HMSLusitania (M)

time travel fics in general are always baller and i ADORE the concept of this, i would love to see more of this universe

Not So Bad by outofmygourd (M)

It struck me deep (it brought me to my knees) by Gorgeousgreymatter (E)

don't go wastin your emotions by kissesforcas (M)

Orta Recens Quam Pura Nites (Newly Risen, How Brightly You Shine) by AidaRonan (M)

all i need from you (is all your love) by wearing_tearing (M)

Meet Him On The Main Line by nbfutureboy (T)

ink you up by Adure (E)

nightswimming by heartofwinterfell (T)

hold me now, i need relief by ToEdenandBackAgain (M)

there's a clock in my head (is it wrong? is it right?) by cloverspies (T)

Eddie Munson's Vampire Mixtape by Springandastorm (T)

just so long it don't mess up his hair by lagardère (laurore) & MissAntlers (T)

Dying of love but it's okay by prufrocks (E)

You Can Cook? by Zigster (E)

we're just kids in the dark by FagurFiskur (T)

Skull Rock Era by chattrekisses (E)

the space between by amiparanoidmuch/p1013 (E)

steve harrington's six step guide to getting the guy by oaseas (T)

AND NOW. A collection of fics covering my favourite concept of all time: TIME LOOPS!

the lathe by palmviolet (M)

wip for now but updates pretty quickly. steve pov time loop done SO well i dream about it at night

I can't save us, my Atlantis by kissmejusttokissme (T)

i believe this is the first steddie time loop fic i read, so this one is very dear to me. please check out the next in the series as well, the aftermath is brutal and so so interesting.

pulling your strings by Thorinoakentwig (T)

looooove this one also, another steve pov

and it all comes down to you by heartofwinterfell (M)

finally, an eddie pov! and it's so good too i'm a huge fan

you are going to die in your best friend's arms (but he won't let you leave like that) by oaseas (T)

dustin pov, which is absolutely genius because he's the only one who could've handled it this well. also the family bonding in this is SO sweet, and i love seeing steddie from an outside perspective.

[dam-peace]

Apologies for my very long rant. I have alot to say unfortunately.

So I just read the new teasers for both V.V and A.B.O and holy smokes were they good. I loved your writing before don't get me wrong. It took me by surprise and God's was it very... descriptive lol but I loved it!! And I still do.

I tried every variation of the replies MC could've given and they are all so unique personality wise that I know you put so much work into it. Some dialog made me legit 🤭 I loved how humorous and also deadpan it can be.

Also thank you for adding more available for all gender ROs to V.V not that it's a criticism for A.B.O just as someone that usually romances as a MLM it's just super awkward even fictionally to romance a female RO when you simply just can't relate? When you are romancing the opposite gender. I hope that makes sense. And then on A.B.O I appreciate the secret RO then being a MLM romancer only. Tho with my luck it's gonna end up being a villain 🤣

What else was there... oh when it comes to A.B.O am I right in saying Hex and ghost aren't romancable character? They didn't have any MC romance related info in their details.

Lastly I know this has been a long time in the making and honestly you are a very talented writer. I hope you do realize that when things get a bit much writing wise. I cannot wait to read the demo when you release it and I truly hope you get so much more recognition because your work speaks for itself. You havw a major fan in me. 😇

Have a good evening/ whatever time of the day you end up reading this. ♥️

First of all your "rambling" was incredibly sweet and certainly brought a smile to my face. So please don't apologise and thank you so much for your kind words, it just warms my little heart🥹🩷

Also, I'm happy that I was able to broaden my horizons and give players more access to each RO. And in your case that would be MLM RO's so I'm incredibly happy about that, representation is a really big thing for me. And I'd hate to leave certain groups out of the whole gaming process if I can help it. (Also, the secret M RO couldn't possibly be a villain 😂.....or could be? 😳🫢👀)

And yes you're correct, Hex and Ghost are not RO's they were never designed with that in mind. Which will become evident later on, when it's shown in game that Hex is actually 14 and Ghost is 13. Whilst the MC is 16, as well as the other RO's. Apart from Zero and Viper who are 17, so that's a definite no.

And once again, thank you SO much for sending this message in. Like seriously I almost teared up reading this and I'm very much not a crier. Things have been piling on top of me lately, so it's really nice to have words of encouragement every now and then.

Thank you so much for enjoying my work, for your continued support and just simply by taking notice of a little writer like me. Love you, and have a GREAT day/evening 🩷🩷🩷

[bringmemyrocks]

“this blog” has fucking exposed themself as a fake Jew claiming to be Jewish for diversity points! like holy shit, if you don’t know the fucking basics behind “am yisrael chai” there’s no way you’re Jewish. like at all. you should be ashamed of yourself for trying to lie about your ethnicity and religion to support hate crimes against Jews.

First, this is a distraction from the genocide that is ongoing in Gaza.

Any dumb jumblr discourse rn is a smoke screen to hide mass-murder and should be treated as such and ignored.

However, I thought anon raised some points some followers may not have heard before, so I summarized some info below. The only non-Jewish source I site is Amnesty International.

Am Yisrael Chai absolutely has been turned into a Zionist slogan.

Even a liberal Zionist would admit this to you readily.

That does not mean it has never been used in any other context. It predates the Nakba by a few years (not something centuries old), but it became popularized in the 20th century as a nationalist slogan, and today it remains a nationalist slogan. The earliest recording of it comes from 1945, in which the singer shouted it right after singing Hatikvah, the zionist anthem. The meaning of words and phrases can change over time, but "Am Yisrael Chai" has only ever been a nationalist rallying cry at any time in which it was actually popular. (And Hatikvah has always been a Zionist song.)

There's more I can say about mealy-mouthed use of the phrase "The Jewish People" as opposed to "Jews" or just "Jewish people" to not-quite-but-basically equate Judaism with Israeli national identity, but that's another post.

The phrase "Am Yisrael" refers to the world's Jews the same way "the Ummah" refers to world Muslims and "The Body of Christ" refers to world Christians. However, just because there is a non-nationalistic interpretation of "Am Yisrael" does not mean that "Am Yisrael Chai" is anything but a Zionist slogan to any meaningful degree right now.

On a similar note, there are also plenty of Zionists who will try and convince you "Am Yisrael" means that Jews have always had a nationalistic self-concept, always wanted to start up an apartheid ethnostate, etc. etc. it's all lies. (The best source for this is the intro and first few chapters of The Hundred Years War on Palestine, but if anyone has other comprehensive sources that aren't behind a paywall lmk.)

If you get all your information from Jumblr, I am not surprised that they had convinced you otherwise.

Check out https://decolonizepalestine.com/ while you're at it.

p.s. "this blog" shows you've read my about page several times. Thanks. I'm a gay guy who did years of orthodox conversion before going conservative. The years of homophobia taught me not to care what assholes think about my religion or my sexuality.

You're correct on one thing, though, Judaism is not my ethnicity because it's not anyone's ethnicity; it's a religion which has many Jewish cultures and ethnicities both historically and now. And even if we were an ethnic group like the Rromani, it doesn't give us a right to set up an apartheid ethnostate. Look up Elmer Berger--it's not just orthodox Jews who argue against Zionism from a religious point of view :)

(Judaism not being an ethnicity does not mean antisemitism does not exist or that it should not be fought against.)

Comments are on and I will respond to good-faith replies. As usual, feel free to plagiarize in whole or in part if you want to share for whatever reason--just don't include my username.

rbs are off for now bc I don't want the libs arguing "Judaism is an ethnicity because I want to feel oppressed" but if you really wanna rb it I can turn them back on for a short time. Please consider copying and pasting my part and making that into its own post tho.

[queenofbaws]

hello hello my friends!!! just a quick little update from yours truly - and a few snippets, of course ;)c

things continue to be strange and chaotic here, and as a result, my brain has decided to be...strange and chaotic :P i've been trying to stick to one project at a time and just soldier through, but said chaos is making that rough, so i'm trying to just get words down as they occur to me, regardless of what project they're for. so, much as i'd like to say "keep your eyes peeled for an [x] update soon!" the reality is that i have...no idea what's going to hold my attention for the next ten minutes, hahaha.

what i will say is i currently have three ongoing projects that are priorities, and those are like wringing blood from a stone, of mummy men & bathtub soup, and the tale(s) of the champion - so i've included little teaser snippets of those below! as always, thanks for your patience, your well-wishes, and for reading!!! i hope you and yours are doing well, and that you're being extra kind to yourselves now that we're entering the winter months <3

like wringing blood from a stone

“Holy smokes, you sure take ‘protect and serve’ seriously out here, huh? Thirty minutes or your arrest is free—is it that kinda thing?” His head was spinning too fast to make a lick of sense out of that; luckily, Diane wasn’t having the same problem. “Believe it or not, he was already here. Kaitlyn, this is…” she paused just long enough to meet Chris’s gaze, but he couldn’t for the life of him read what he saw there in her eyes. “…uh, well, meet Sheriff Hackett.” “Sheriff Ha—oh.” Then, with more feeling, “Oh. I…huh, wow, really? I don't think I would've guessed that.” Chris shrugged. “We get that a lot. Turns out there were only enough handsome genes for one sibling in this family.” “Yeah,” Diane sighed, “and it’s a crying shame it’s Bobby who got ‘em all.” That broke the tension instantly. Chris and Travis both whirled to stare at her, expressions incredulous. Gently nudging Kaitlyn’s shoulder, Diane nodded towards them. “See?” she asked. “Now you can tell they’re related.” “Wow, you’re not wrong! Weird.”

of mummy men & bathtub soup

“Oh good God, Alex. This is obviously some kind of dumb joke—” “Did you find something?” Ashley asked suddenly, looking up from the table. “Something that felt like it was…I don’t know, um, hidden? Not just lost or left behind but actually hidden?” Even knowing it was bullshit, Conrad had to admit…Brown had been well cast. A finger of dread slid down his spine in a lover’s caress, making him shudder; Alex and Julia, less sure of the truth behind this whole debacle, did a little more than that. Fuck, he watched the color drain from JJ’s face like she was some kind of cartoon character, and Mr. Big Bad Med School Bro wasn’t doing a whole hell of a lot better, by the looks of it. The spell broke when Julia whirled on Alex. “Did you say any—” she froze, turning on him then. “You told them! You told them, didn’t you, you little shit weasel?!” Chris sat up straighter. “Shit weasel?”

the tale(s) of the champion

“Which one,” she repeated. “It’s the first thing Varric said during his questioning, did you know that?” The smile in her voice made its first appearance, quirking the corners of her mouth into a shape subtle enough that the Inquisitor felt as though the two of them were in on some secret joke together. “Cassandra asked him…well, demanded of him, I suppose, that he tell her everything he knew about the Champion. And he responded by asking her—” “Which one.” She watched Leliana’s smile grow. It wasn’t by much, but it was there all the same. The sense of being in on a joke grew right along with it. “Now, she probably thought he was poking fun at her…and in all likelihood he was, but of course we know now that there was so much more to it, don’t we?” Leliana rose from her table with the grace of a ghost, each fluid movement reminding her in no uncertain terms that, spymaster or not, agent of the Divine or not, the woman opposite her was, at the end of the day, a bard before all else. “Cassandra is skilled in many, many areas, Inquisitor, as I’m sure you’ve come to learn. Certainly she’s without equal on the battlefield, but when it comes to…reading people, let us say…” Again that inscrutable smile grew. “Well…suffice it to say an answer like that would’ve caught my attention, had I been the one questioning him.” “But you weren’t.” The last word came out strangely choked—she hadn’t been able to decide whether or not she’d wanted it to be a question.

[linksthoughtbrambles]

The one that blew by.

Part 15 of Adventure Log+ (sequel to Link's Thought Brambles - much better to read in order). Warning for strong language and violence.

@newtsnaturethings beta-read this chapter! Thank you very, very much, Newt!

“It’s fire- I’m sure of it!”

“Indeed, Sir Margil, though it did not appear so earlier.”

“So much-“  “To see it this far out!”  “Goddess.”

Goddess is right.

Can’t say that.  “It’s Serenne.” 

“That- could be the whole town.”

“Beraya-“

“We won’t know until we’re a lot closer-” to her family- “but the fire’s…” massive- “in that direction.”

“Link is quite correct.”

I’m ‘Link’ again.  “Erl- or whoever he actually was- could’ve been telling the truth about fire spreading on the plain.”

“If he was, we shall likely be forced to retreat.  The season hasn’t been particularly dry, but these past few weeks have seen little rain in this area.”

.

That silence.

They’re scared.

They’re knights and warriors, but you can’t battle fire with blades.

Well.  Not effectively.

Daile’s as stony as he’s been this whole time- except at that first house.  Beraya’s smile still missing.  Margil’s wide-eye.  I don’t know Varino well at all.  That could just be his face.  Or he might already have a brick in his armor.  The others-

The others.

Thanks to those Sheikah half-masks, those two are a total mystery, but the Hylians are tired for sure.  Bad time to be tired.  Maybe the scared is good.  Alert and tired is better than asleep and dead.

No, no, you can’t be asleep if you’re dead.

.

I’m tired, too.   “Ahem.  Keep a sharp lookout, everyone.  Eyes all about.  You see open flame, you shout it out immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”  “As you say, Master Link!” “Yes, sir!” “Uh-” “Sir!” “Yessir.” “Yes, Master Link.”  “Yes, sir Link.” “Yes, general!”

Huh?

“Liff, what the #$(%?”

Yeah, what the #$(%, Liff?

“What?!”

“You’re a nitwit, that’s what!”

“But he IS one!”

“Don’t make it weird-“

“You’re the one making it weird!”

“Shh!”

Wow.

“Hmm.  Hm hmm.”

At least Zelda can still find things funny.  “Sir’s enough, thanks.”  Stop it, Link, stop grimacing.

“Kmph- eh- khh.”

“Z- Princess?”

“Khh.”

“Are you alright?  Do you smell smoke?” I don’t yet, but I expect to soon-

“Khh- ah- km.  Gm.  I am- well, thank you Link.  I do not smell smoke—yet.”

“Do you need water?”

“I have plenty, thank you.”

----

“It is-“ “Holy…” “It really IS.”  “Serenne…”  “Are you fricking seeing this?” ��Hylia-“ “-to the lab-“

“Preserve us-“ “No way, couldn’t be.” “Hell.”  “Beraya?” “P-Princess-“

“Lift us from these sands…” “I’m fine.”  “Princess, we ought to turn back.”

“Beraya, your family-“ “Why is there so little smoke?”  “No.  Not unless we’re forced to.”

“I know.”  “But- your safety, Princess!”

“But what if-“ “You heard her- she said no.”

“No point guessing- we’ll find out.”  “Master Link, SURELY you must see-“

“Princess Zelda isn’t mine to command, and she’s not yours either.” She’s hers.  “…We’re hers.”

Right?

Right.

Dark looks.

“Sir Beraya.”

“Yes, Princess.”

“It sounds as though you’ve family here.”

“Yes, Princess.”

“Please be assured we shall not abandon them unless forced.”

“Sir Margil’s father lives just northwest-“

“Bera- ugh!”

“-of the town proper, as well, Princess.”

“Please, Princess, I know we cannot cater to our families.”

“I shall do everything in my power to see as many survive this as possible, Sir Margil.  That includes your father and your family, Beraya.  May I ask whom?”

.

“…My sister Miriah lives here with her dear friend Paulotta and her daughter Aeryn.”

“Where?”

“…Within the circle of trees.  Just on the edge.  South by southeast.”

Not too far off the way we’ll approach

What if the treeline’s lit?

We won’t be able to cross if it is.

We shouldn’t even consider entering if it is.  Not if we value our own lives.

Zelda’s life.

Seggin.  Seggin said Zelda and I had to survive.  Which… obviously.

He also basically said we couldn’t be coddled.

Pretty sure I don’t consider ‘not running into a blazing townfire’ to be coddling.

Pretty sure I don’t care either way.

I’m not leaving people to die in there.

.

.

Oh!

Zelda.

I have to ask.

I have to tell her, too.  Tell her I can’t.  I can’t turn away from it even if she orders me to.  Either the fire stops me or nothing does.

“Zelda.”

“Hph.  So quiet, my knight.”

Oh Goddess.  Now is NOT the time to relive the last time she called me that.  “I’m going in there unless I physically can’t.”

“As am I.”

YES! No. “You’d be safer-“

“I’d be useless.  No, Link.  No.  There is no more time to wade into shallow waters and hope in stillness.  I must move.  I must move to aid my people.”

“…I had to say it anyway.”

That smile.

“I know you did.”

So warm.

So smokey.  “I smell it, now.”

“…Yes-”

“Listen up, all!”

“-khm.”

“We’ll enter Serenne and give aid where we can!  Anyone alive, we get them out.  Monsters?  We slay them.”

“Let me make two other aspects of this clear for all of you, including Sir Link.  We are not to separate.  This group remains as one unless I say otherwise.”

Good.

“If we encounter the man we know as Erl, we attempt to capture him for questioning.”

Oh- oh woah, I don’t like that idea, we should-

.

.

Wow, Link.

Should what?  Let him go? 

.

.

I’d have no problem dragging his ass somewhere for questioning.

.

It’s because of Zelda.

I don’t want him near her.

This… is clearly my issue.  Quit being a nervous dumbass, Link.  Zelda just slaughtered dozens of monsters with you.

“Kph- khm.”

Yeah.  I smell it too for sure this time.

“Khm.”

She- water. Okay.

Flame.  “I hear it.”

Wish I knew what would happen if my pouch caught on fire.  Does everything inside it disappear forever if it burns?  Does it just reappear and dump itself all over the ground?

I have to figure this stuff out somehow.  Because clearly the war we thought was coming is already here.

.

.

We’re at war.

“RIDERS!”

?!! “Zel- where?!”

“THERE!”

Where where come on Link whereTHERE “SOUTHWEST, TEN O’CLOCK, BOKO RIDERS, NORTH OF THE HILLS- COUNT-“

“THIRTEEN MINIMUM!”

Her EYES, wow- but “PRINCESS-“

“YOU MAY SAY IT BUT I SHALL NOT AGREE!”

“-I FORMALLY REQUEST YOU TURN BACK UNTIL WE DEAL WITH THE RIDERS!”

“REQUEST DENIED!”

“ALRIGHT, THEN!  BERAYA, MARGIL, FLANK THE PRINCESS!  DAILE, VARNIRO, WITH ME ON POINT!  LIFF, COHL, BENNENT, GENENKO, FLANK US!  TERIAL, LAHS, AREE, OEREB, FLANK BERAYA AND MARGIL- PROVIDE LONG RANGE SUPPORT WITH THE PRINCESS!”

“AYE!” “YES, SIR!” “YESSIR!” “Khh.” “YES-“ “D- amn bowstring-“

“DRAW!  FLANK!  HUIRU AND REIDA, WITH US, CIRCLE WIDE!”

“BUT THE PRINCESS!”

“DO AS SIR LINK INSTRUCTS!  I AM NEITHER HELPLESS NOR UNPROTECTED!”

“Y-YES-“ “AS YOU WISH, PRINCESS!”

Glad they listened to her.  Sheikah loyalty to the royal line- I hope.  Still not leaving Zelda’s melee support in the hands of total unknowns.  Margil and Beraya’ll keep her safe.

Hope Varniro knows what the hell he’s doing up here with us.

“Reds first.”

They’re coming FAST.

“They shall end swiftly.”

Four reds?  Hard to seeWOW!

“One- khm.” “Wh?!” “AH!” “Holy HELL?!” “P- OH!” “MERCIFUL GODDESS!”

DAMN- amazing shot

“PRINcess!”  “HA! Wh?!” “COHL DID YOU SEE?!”

even for Zelda!-

“COURSE I DID, EYES FRONT!”

This is going to be so much easier-

“THEY ARE, THAT’S HOW I SAW- LOOK!”

“Two.”  “Hhh!”  “HAH!”

SO MUCH EASIER with Zelda here.

Stop grinning, Link.

“Margil-”

You probably lookWOW-

“Three.”  “MARGIL-“

Insane-

“I KNOW, BERAYA!”

Then again-

“Too far.  Blue.“

That’s a grin on Daile, too.

“Just-“  “Wow-“ “Khm.  Stubborn.  Again.”

Blue down!

“Praise the Goddess herself!” “Four.”

I’ll take it.  “SPEED, Gir-!” NOT Rionee,“GO, BOY!”

“Yes!”  “ON, GIRL!” “YES SIR!” “KYAH!” “FLAAAAANK!”  “ARCHERS AT READY!”

Good tone, carries, tell Beraya later-

“YES SIR!” “READY!”

Good horse- good boy, keep listening for me, okay?  Here they come.

Except not all of them.

“Yes-“ “Five-hhh.” “H- YES!!”  “Oh- MY-“ “Skies-”

Zelda’s crippling them.

“Not five yet.”

Just one-shotting reds on horseback and ONE

“Five.”

IN EACH EYE FOR THAT BLUE!

“SIR!”

“VARNIRO?”

“HOW?!”

NOO Link, don’t start laughing – “DON’T KNOW!” But I can’t blame him for wondering.

Five down already-

…Snag.

They’ve caught on- shields up.  Zig-zagging.  “TAKE THEIR SHIELDS!”

“YES!”  “YES SIR!” “MPH!”

“CHARGE!”  Pull ahead, ahead, pull way out!

Hope those other archers are good enough to miss US far off.

Maybe Fi.

Yes, master?

Sorry.  Was thinking to myself.

How encouraging.

“Khm- TAKE CARE, ARCHERS! FAN OUT!“

Arm straight right.  Ignore Fi’s snark.

“YES, PRINCESS!”

No snark intended, master.

“TARGET OUTLIERS ONLY!”

Uh-huh.  Concentrate.

“I SHALL TAKE CENTER!”

IT WON’T HURT YOU!  I should’ve warned Varniro.  Noted for next time.

Concentrate.  Everything into the sword.  I heard that squealARCHERS INCOMING! SHIELDS!

.

Come on, Varni- hh.  He’s slower than Daile.

“Khh.”

SHEIKAH!  GO WIDE!

They didn’t say anything but they’re doing it.  Maybe they’ll get to those far-off archers quick.  Unless Zelda snags them fir-

“Si-x… no.”

One de-horsed and concentrate here they ARE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! DE-HORSED HE’S OFF HE’S ZELDA’S OR-

-what color was that?!  Yellow?!  New!

Daile saw it, he saw too, that was a nasty NASTY- looking club-

“PRINCESS!”

Don��t turn-

“I HAVE IT!”

-let the archers finish it off, you’ll screw it up otherwise-

“Wh?!  Khh-hh.”

-and FIRE-ARROWS, BREAK!

“TERIAL, LAHS, SUPPORT!”

Wooden shields bad some of the others DAILE YES RIDER DOWN

“STILL STANDING?!”  “VEER OFF, PRINCESS!”

this one right in front, huge bone club

“I SHAN’T- ANOTHER VOLLEY!”

AGAIN Link, arm straight out, the energy, concentrate, yes it telegraphs but the reach-

It sees it sees it’s charging EARLYNOCHOICE AAAAH- HPH-HH! Dammit still horsed, behind me- Beraya-!

NO!

TURN AROUND TURN AROUND LINK HYAH!  HYAH!  SORRY BOY APPLES LATER HOW’S THE YELLOW NOT DOWN HOW IS IT NOT DOWN HOW HOW

DAILE GET THE OTHER, DE-HORSE, DE-HORFFFCK-

Good horse, holy s$#&, good boy, you’re damn nimble and so am I so I STILL HAVE A HEAD and WE FLY TO THAT YELLOW HEY!  HEY!  HEY YOU YOU YOU Y“OU!  HEY!” THAT’S RIGHT LOOK AT ME LOOK AT ME IT HAS TO HAVE TWELVE ARROWS IN ITS CHEST BEHEAD IT BEHEAD IT- “RRR-KH!” CLUBCOMINGFACE!

“HH!” “LINK!”

That was f-ing close how is it so strong?!  It’s keyed onto me good good let’s go, around for another pass and NOTTHEHORSE“PSH!” It’s too smart too smart it’ll take the horse’s legs out if I get close again-

Can’t get close…

…on the horse.

Turn turn TURN TURN TOWARD THEN YOU CAN GO WHEREVER YOU WANT, HORSE, NOW“HAAAH!”ITSEES ITSEESITCOMING IT’LLHITME WE’LLBOTHHIT “AHH-KHHKT!”

“QQQKKUOUYYYEH!”

Shield-

MY SHIELD cracked-

In one hit?!

It’s way too strong it shouldn’t beCLUBSHEILD “AH-K-H-HH!”

“LINK- AH!”

Another arrow sunk

“QQKUIUY-YH!”

and SHUT UP the damn thing’s still raging, take it out, Link, PUT. IT. DOWN. SLASH SLASHWOAH MISSED ME STRIKESTRIKESTRIKESTRIKESTRIKESTRIKE-

“RUIO DID YOU SEE THAT?!”

STRIKE GO DOWN- GO ON-

“QQKUIU!!!  KHHH!!”

“KEEP YELLING!” AND NOT LOOKING AT THE ARCHERS NOW CIRCLING YOUNO NO NO NO NO “HEY! HEY!  HERE I AM NO- NO!” RUN RUN RUN RUN IT’S FAST, FAST TOO- NO! “THE HORSES, BREAK OFF!  BREAK OFF!”

 “THIS WAY!  HEY!!” Margil and Beraya “YEAH, ME, ME, NOT THEM!” still with Zelda “WHERE- HEY!!” RUN LINK still flanking RUNRUN a little messy “HEY!!” she’s unpredictable, independent, trying to stay near me isn’t sheSLASH!

ThatgotitsattentionBACKFLIP you’reinitnowyoujerkSLASHSWIPESLASHKNOCKKNOCKTHATSHIELD

“KWHHHHEHHH!”

YES! SWIPE MIDSECTION RIGHT ACROSSWHAAAAAT? ARE YOU F*&$ING KIDDING?!  “GO DOWN!”

“QKWKOIHHHWWW-”

ANOTHER arrow, thank-you Zelda-

“-HHHHKKEHHH!”

RIGHTBACKATYOU SWIPE SLASH cluUUB! “Rr- rrh-!” How is it this strong, it’s difficult, difficult to keep its club away from my face and it shouldn’t be like that, this one is so different, even the silvers aren’t like this FOOT“AHH-HH!” UPUPLINK DON’T STAY BOWLED OVER ROLLROLL

My goddess its club in the dirt my head was just there”RRR-!”ITSNECK

.

No more head.

.

And there it goes.

Down.

Aware, Link, aware-

Horse?

Far.  Run, Link.  Does he know whistling?  Try.

Zelda, archers, they’ll get the shieldless ones-

Daile still horsed, he’s got one but he’s far- Varniro?   On foot?  The two Sheikah- approaching Zelda-

Some of ours definitely dehorsed.

Hyup, boy!  Well-trained.  Still must be weird, a complete stranger and then all this-

Zelda- okay-

Regroup- toward others, like she is, help mop up-

“FLANK!  TAKE ANY SHOT YOU HAVE!”

“YES, PRINCESS!” “EH!” “HYU!”

“Sirs, I am WELL, TRULY, go to the others’ aid!”

“But-“ “Princess!“

“HEED ME!”

Can’t hear-

“OBEY THE PRINCESS!”

Breaking off- they’re unpredictable, too.

Zelda?

New line- circling wide.

Trust her.  Hyah!  Finish the bokos off.

Daile’s- about to go down- or is it?  Mine wouldn’t drop.

Hup! Toward Daile, boy, fast!

He sees me, pretending not to, the pounding’ll give it away though, it will- yes it’s turning, nasty spear, bone again, out-reaches me by far, but Daile is smarter.

Ride ride ride, boy, fast, that’s right look at me look at me not Daile TURN BOY NOW TURN-

Squelching.  Daile-?

Yes.  Sword through its head.  Dropping.

Everyone else?

.

Wow.

Still.

“TO ME!”

To her.  Daile- you’re real good.

.

No, I mean it.

“You good, Beraya?”

Because you’re still alive.  Did you get hit?

“Yes! You?”

Good.  Think your shield is still here?

“Just a scratch- some dinged plate.”

Yeah, maybe.

“Keep it that way, Margil.”

Keep scanning, Link, in case something decides to pop out from the grass and screw with Daile.  Hope he sees the shield.

.

He does.

Okay- let’s go.  Back together, take stock.

“Not quick enough- TO ME!”

Sorry, sorry- yes- YES PRINCESS!!

Speed speed speed sorry Daile

“More- do you see them?!”

hurry Link

“Indeed, Margil.”  “ARCHERS!  FIRE AT WILL!”

“The Sheikah!”

What the f&#$ are they doing?!

“Hold- HOLD!”

BREAK OFF!  REIDA, HUIRU!

“Princess!”  “They’ll reach us!”  “SHEIKAH, BREAK!  BREAK!  KHh.”

FOR F#$&’S SAKE!

“Hylia’s light!”  “I- khh- SHALL FIRE!”

GET OUT OF THE WAY!

“PRINCESS, RETREAT!”

“Hh!”

ONE ARROW NOT ENOUGH NOT ENOUGH, SHEIKAH- BREAKING!

“ARCHERS FIRE!”

Hit hit hit HIT HIT HIT S#$&

“RETREAT, PRINCESS!”

F$&#ING SILVERS

“INDEED NOT!”

She’s right no time she’d be prone prone open back vulnerable more arrows ONE DOWN not enough- move move MOVE

SHE’S NOT A RIDER LINK SHE’S NOT LIKE YOU SHE DOESN’T-

ZELDA CHARGE!  CHARGE!  CHARGE-

“BERAYA, GO!!”

MARGIL!

“HAHHHHH!!”

GOOD MAN

“Hh!”

GOOD BERAYA TOO

“Oh- oh!”

She’s drawing, S$#%, she’s right but I didn’t, didn’t at all want her in close combat again and definitely not like this, horsed, so different, no training no training NONE the bow the bow the bow?!

NO, LOST, GRASS?  NOISE LINK GET THEIR ATTENTION AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!  HAAAAAAAAAH!  AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH SWORD SWORD, THE SKY THE SKY HELP THE SKYWARD STRIKE THE SKYWARD- THE LIGHT- “HAH!” AWAY!

“QUEHWWHWY!”

DON’T CUT THEM OFF BERAYA AND MARGIL BEHIND BEHIND THEM-

“RAA- AAAGH!”  “YAAA- KTCH!”

SWITCH HANDS SWITCH LEFT SLICE “AhAAH- HH!”

“LINK!”

STAY UP STAY UP BOY GOOD G-OHFU- “aAAAHPFFCKthph-“

“KWEHYYYEH-HHH!”

GETOFF”GGGH-HH!”MYBACK-

“AH-HH!”

Wh?  “ZELDA!”  Goddess, they’ll bowl her over “TURN!  TURN BACK-” No time it’s standing again “N-NoAAH!” I’ve got you, got you by the ankles you piece of-

NO YOU DON’T

“Tass! Easy-“

Tass hit holditBACK!

“Easy- Mm- MM-HH-“

HoldonZeldaPUNCH

“Easy, Tass-”

PUNCHPUNCH

“That’s it- go!”

where- sword?!-

“KHWEHYEYWEHH!”

PUNCH “SHUT IT!” THEREITIS! Zeldariding outofrange GET IT-

YES!

“QUIEHHHEHH!”

ABOVE- “H-UGH-“ skewered  “KH-“ itsarms ITSARMS “ggh-GHH-“ CAN’T “WH?!” blood- limp- arrow!  Zelda?  Next one move on move on move on move on she circled back still moving yes keep moving Zelda keep moving Beraya Margil good good lots of arrows- our archers- ours-

The Sheikah?  Circled behind?  Behind enemy- fine out of the way fine they’ll take a few out-

The one- the one that blew by me- where is it?

Where’s its horse?

Mine-

No- not now.

She’s firing again.

Not near our people.  Too risky.

My turn.

You’re fast Link, you’re fast, you can do this, they’re all engaged all the bokos but the one that passed you, could be behind Zelda check check- nothing- keep going she’s looking too, she’s smart, she’s smart she knows, she knows too, one’s missing some of ours, some of ours missing too

Daile dear Goddess did he make it?  Can’t know can’t he was on foot slow can’t tell

Near- that’s not Margil it’s Genenko needs support, arm limp sword to the sky Link-

Hylia preserve us- lift us from these sands- NOW!

It’s down it’s down Genenko sword through its throat who else who else-

The boko’s horse- mine.

Woah- woah, woahWOAH girl, woah!  I know, I S$@% holy F%*$- SWING-

Blood-

Dammit Link watch the f-ing grass for ankle-stabbing bokos, it’s dead it’s dead now, ignore the ankle, it’s working, it’s fine for now-

No horse it bolted oh well GO legs S$*% that hurts not worse though not worse than the melee nowhere near actually but that silver’s near and he is NOT getting the jump on whoever that is who JUST FELL OFF THEIR HORSE NO NO NO JUMP LINK LEAP AAAAAAAAAH-

.

It’s dead.

.

Aree-?

.

Good- good, up, go!

.

More?

Zelda-?

G- ood.

Every direction, Link.

Eyes eyes eyes all around count count- none?  “EYES!  COUNT!”

“NONE!”  “NONE, SIR!” “NOTHING!” “NONE, LINK!”

“EYES EAST BY NORTHEAST!”

.

“NONE, SIR!” “NOOONE!”

Fled.

Must have.

Zelda- Z”ELDA!”

“LINK- kmp!”

“ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”

“I AM!”

“REPORT!  ALL, REPORT!”

“AREE, WELL!”  “MARGIL, SiR!” “BERAYA, SIR!”  “GENENKO, BAD SHEILD ARM!”  “COHL SIRRR!”  “LIFF!  WELL!”

.

Please be more “REPOOORT!”

.

“REPOOORT!”

“VARNIROOO!  I’M HEEEERE!”

Wow, couldn’t even see him in the dark and the grass.

…Daile?

.

Daile, man, come-

“DAILE!  WELL!”

YES!

“LAAAHHHS!  HURT!  LEG!”

On foot, difficult- did my horse make it?  “AREE HELP HIM OUT!”

“YESSIR!”

Oereb.  Bennent.  “REPORT!”

.

S*&$ “BENNENT!  OEREB!  REPORT!”

“SIR BENNENT!  SIR OEREB!  REPORT AT ONCE!”

Zelda…

“REPORT AT ONCE!”

It’s not a rank thing-

“REPORT, SIRS!”

Yeah, Link.  She knows that.  Look at her face.

.

Her face… “Alright.  RIDE OUT IN PAIRS!  SCOUR THE AREA!”

“AYE SIR!” “YES SIR!” “HUP-“

Pretty sure I know what they’ll find.  I should… try to find my horse.  He’s probably downed.

That- red sky.

Serenne’s next.

Whether I have a horse or not.

Serenne’s next.

Smoke.

“Khm- kh.”

----------------

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